


Because This Is My First Life

by wrendering



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Drinking, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Modern Girl in Thedas, Rating May Change, Romance, Slow Burn, the whole shebang, there's nakedness but of the funny variety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:00:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22589812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrendering/pseuds/wrendering
Summary: It had to be a sick practical joke. Or a kidnapping. Or maybe it was all a drawn out coma-dream.But it couldn't be anything like magic.Having resigned herself to a 9 to 5 until retirement (until death), Tala's routine is disrupted when she gets dropped into a bizarre universe that she knows nothing about. Though she plans to be sensible by waiting for someone who knows better to help her get home, it becomes impossible to stay out of the strange goings-on of Thedas.And then she starts to find that even with the constant threat of mortal danger, she's never felt more alive.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Original Character(s), Cullen Rutherford/Original Female Character(s), Female Inquisitor/Josephine Montilyet, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 95





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Am I being punished? Or is this hangover just worse because Thursdays are the Sundays of the week?"
> 
> Her story begins when she's already convinced that she'll never leave the middle.

The beeping of her phone was the most obnoxious thing she'd ever heard.

“Just five more minutes,” she said to her ceiling as she turned off her alarm.

Seven minutes later, she finally summoned up the courage to open her eyes. To her delight, the clock read 7:52. Only weirdoes got up on incomplete numbers.

“Eight more…”

It was precisely 8 o'clock when Tala finally crawled out of bed and trudged to her shower, hoping she'd be able to scrub off the night before. Not bothering with the lights, she tried to relish the darkness. Darkness was good; darkness went easy on her and didn’t remind her that she’d been goaded into drinking _far_ too much for a Wednesday.

“Ah, who cares,” she said, this time to her bathroom floor. “It’s not like Dave really gives a shit anyway.”

Shower, coffee, clothes, makeup, hair, breakfast – it was a practiced routine, one that was only slightly hampered by the growing pain behind her eyes.

_More coffee,_ she thought, _just…more coffee._

Grabbing a flask, she was out the door just before 9.

* * *

For the entire day, she didn’t have a single thought worth having. It was great – the personal assistant network always envied her for her boss, because Dave _really_ didn’t give a shit.

He had a gift and a reputation for being utterly devoid of any charisma, or any discernible personality for that matter. But that meant that he was also mercifully free of any of the quirks that those poor other PAs had to deal with, so she never even considered leaving; as long as she answered the phone promptly and didn’t make typos, she had enough money and free time to make up for the fact that she had to walk into that beige office every week.

At 5 o’clock, on the dot, she left the office, headed home, and went straight to her bathroom again. The stupid headache had refused to budge the whole day, no matter how much water she forced into her system.

“Am I being punished?” she groaned, letting the hot water rush over her, hoping that it would perform a healing miracle. “Or is this hangover just worse because Thursdays are the Sundays of the week?”

Predictably, her showerhead gave no answer.

Just as she was rinsing out her shampoo, her knees buckled. 

“What the…,” she gasped. The world was tilting on its side; she could only reach out a hand to steady herself as the pressure behind her eyes began to spike, and for a moment her vision was overcome by a brilliant green light.

And then, darkness.


	2. The Sunne Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I won't stab you. Much." 
> 
> She wakes up to too many voices, and too little clothes.

There was too much noise.

_Why are they in my apartment?_

For the second time that day, Tala summoned all her willpower so that she could force her eyes open. The first thing she noticed was that she was surrounded by three or four people, all of whom seemed to be wearing…armor.

Any minute now, her brain would catch up with her situation, and she’d figure out just what, exactly, she had woken up to.

_Oh. Because this isn’t my apartment._

She was in a tiny room, on a very uneven mattress, with only the light of a small window to see by. Her hair was still wet, soaking into the sorry excuse of a pillow that her head was still laying on. The walls were stone, for some reason, and they were bare, which she supposed accounted for the chill that had seemed to settle in her bones.

 _So cold,_ was her next coherent thought, _why is it so cold? It’s the middle of summer._

In the next moment, Tala glanced down and found out why, and almost passed out again. She was _naked_ , covered only in a blanket that was starting to make her itch, in front of a handful of strangers, all of whom were whispering to each other in tones that Tala could only partly hear.

Even worse, if the approaching voices outside were any indication, she would soon be naked in front of a small, _highly_ interested crowd.

“Are you okay, lass?”

The question cut through the mess of voices, and her gaze landed on the speaker – but what was that accent? It was vaguely…Irish? Scottish? A bad imitation of the two? Like the others, he was wearing heavy armor, with a symbol on it that she couldn’t recognize. The face was unfamiliar to her as well… and not to mention a little unusual. Tattoos lined his face, down the bridge of his nose and onto his chin.

Uneasy ideas began to form in her mind.

“…her hands…”

“…Herald…Inquisitor…”

“…let me _see_ …”

_My hands?_

Tala took a second to check her hands: it _looked_ fine. They were both in working order, all of her fingers and thumbs accounted for. What did they mean by her hands? Pulling the blanket up closer around her, she looked up again, a million questions at the tip of her tongue.

But first, the important ones.

“Where am I? Who are you?”

 _Is_ _this some cult and is that why you brought me here naked?_

He was, bless him, helpful enough to answer her first two questions.

“I’m Knight-Captain Rylen, of the Inquisition. You’re at Skyhold, on the Frostback Mountains.”

 _Well, at least he answered,_ Tala thought, although she was completely baffled by most of it. And he’d answered truthfully, too – a quick glance out of the window did actually show a jagged, snowy landscape.

How on earth did she get to the mountains? And none of the mountains near her even had any snow. She’d certainly never heard of the _Frostback_ Mountains before.

By this time, even more people had managed to find their way in.

“I don’t—the Inquisition?”

Silence.

Then the murmuring broke out again, more heated this time, but she couldn’t hear anything that they were saying.

 _Okay, this is annoying,_ she thought, shifting to secure the blanket more firmly. _I’m going to need some answers, because it’s way too fucking weird and I clearly need to find a way out of here._

She noticed that the entrance was blocked by the people crowding in. No chance of leaving like this, then.

“How did I get here?”

“You fell from the rift,” came the reply. It was a level voice, but the words carried across the din without effort. From the way everyone scrambled back, Tala figured that whoever said it was ‘Important’.

The woman that came forward walked in such a way as to confirm her suspicions. Though she was bizarrely dressed, with armor and a hood that partially covered a pale face and red hair, her sharp, steady gaze was trained on Tala, like she was daring her to make a run for it.

“I will need to speak to you,” the woman continued. “Alone.”

The room emptied as quickly as it had filled, but Tala felt no less comfortable. Somehow, it felt like the whole world had been reduced to this woman and what she wanted from her.

“I need some clothes first,” she blurted out. Whatever happened, she wanted to face it with her pants on.

The redhaired woman looked bemused, but somehow managed to pull out the largest grey shirt that she’d ever seen and some sort of underclothes. Tala shot up, glad to be rid of the cursed blanket. The shirt was so big she would surely look like a child playing dress-up, but clothing was clothing.

“Be quick.”

There was a little maneuvering to be done before she was ready – Tala had to use the blanket to brush some dirt off her back and her legs, which she supposed came from the ‘fall’ they mentioned. Once she was finished, the redhead wasted no time in beginning her questioning.

“What is your name?”

Tala noticed that she didn’t offer her own.

“Amy.”

That had been the name that she’d always given creeps at the bar, on the street, in the supermarket; it was common sense, really, the kind that their mother had drilled into them since childhood. Tala was many things, but she wasn’t stupid.

Unfortunately, the Redhead seemed to have an innate bullshit detector.

“I was asking for your _real_ name.”

There was an edge to the words, one that made her want to crawl back under the blanket.

“I passed out,” Tala said, choosing her words carefully. People like that could smell fear, and would pounce on it at the first opportunity. “And then I woke up surrounded by people I’ve never seen before, wearing armor.” _So no fucking way am I going to give up my name,_ she added silently _._

Redhead didn’t press the issue, but seemed content to let the question sit.

“Where am I?”

“I believe the Knight-Captain has already answered that question,” she said, her tone still calm, decisive. It could’ve been pleasant, even; but Tala was still wary.

“I’ve lived in this area for half of my life, and I’ve never heard of it. And what do you mean I fell? I was in my…wait.” A new thought occurred to her.

“This is a dream.”

She’d read, a few years ago, about people experiencing visions, moments before death, that were so real it was difficult to distinguish from reality. Maybe this was what was happening – it was the only way it all made sense. One last dream, before whatever happened next.

Well. If this was death, then it wasn’t too bad. Certainly could have been worse.

Redhead crossed her arms, tilting her head to the side.

“I’m _very_ real.”

And then she pulled out the sharpest looking knife Tala had ever seen.

Giving a silent scream, Tala jerked back so quickly that she fell back onto the bed. But all Redhead did was take one of her hands.

“I won’t stab you,” she said, a little too conversationally for a woman holding a weapon. “Much.”

 _My subconscious is so fucked up,_ Tala thought, transfixed, as she watched Redhead bring the tip of the knife down on her palm; as the blade dragged along her skin, she had to bite back a curse. The pain as the steel bit into her was so real, it couldn’t have been a dream.

_Well, shit._

That just brought her back to square one.

“Okay, so this isn’t a dream,” she said, still staring at the fresh blood on her hand. “But that just means that all my previous questions still stand.”

Redhead sighed, and tucked the knife back into her ridiculous armor.

“You are not my only problem,” she said, by way of dismissal. “Rest. There is a bed. You should know that there will _also_ be guards at the door, and they know how to stop an escape.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Tala knew her own capabilities; going to the gym three times a week did not an escape artist make.

The tiniest smile lifted the corner of Redhead’s mouth, and she inclined her head ever so slightly. “There’ll be a healer here shortly. They will check you for injuries, and heal your cut,” she said, not unkindly.

And with that, she swept out, leaving Tala with a bleeding hand and the beginnings of another headache.


	3. Ah, Teneriffe!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Um...no. I'm Asian." 
> 
> Tala realizes a lot of things, and a lot of it is Not Good.

Her solitude didn’t last long. Not five minutes after Redhead left, an apologetic sounding man swept in, poking and prodding every inch of her; after ascertaining that she had not bashed her head by ‘her fall’, he cleaned and bandaged her hand with the kind of linen strip that she only saw in movies. He even let her use a comb, saying that he’d always heard that people with long hair preferred to comb their hair when wet, ‘as to avoid tangles and the like’.

“You’re lucky you only sustained that cut,” he said when he finished. Tala didn't bother correcting him. “The Inquisitor—”

But he stopped short.

“The Inquisitor? Is that the woman who just left?” If she was going to be stuck here until morning, she wasn’t going to sit and twiddle her thumbs.

Her question was met with an incredulous snort.

“Oh, Maker, no!” he said, looking at her like she’d asked if water was wet.

“Then who _is_ this Inquisitor person?”

He ducked his head slightly before he answered. “Pardon me, miss, but Sister Leliana said to only have necessary conversations with you. About your condition, and such.”

_Ah, that’s probably Redhead’s name._

She gave him her best work smile.

“Don’t worry, I understand.” There was never any use in antagonizing the ones taking orders, anyway.

“I’ll just check your head again, and then I’ll be off.” He took his time; though he told her once again that she was perfectly fine, he was still looking at her with that incredulous expression – eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly open, like he wanted to say more. Only he didn’t.

“Thank you,” she said finally, hoping he’d catch the hint. She’d always hated being gawked at.

Whatever force that ran the universe was merciful, because he understood at once and left with an awkward wave.

As soon as she was alone, she began to pace.

It would be pretty accurate to call herself a prisoner — that Sister Leliana had said as much. And since this was definitely not a dream, what with her still aching hand, she cast her mind around for any other explanations.

_If this is a prank, it’s not funny. In fact, I think I could legally beat whoever organized it into the ground and any jury on Earth would exonerate me._

There was an uncanny amount of effort put into this prank, though. What with the armor and the room and everyone on the same script. And the _mountains._ She couldn’t fathom why anyone would pour in this much time and effort for a prank that didn’t even make sense.

A kidnapping was definitely a possibility. At the very least, someone had managed to take her out of the apartment, and up into the mountains that everyone had heard of but her.

But Tala’s gut instinct was that it wasn’t right — the whole thing seemed off, and she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t just the whole...scene. It was something else, something she couldn’t quite place her finger on.

Looking out of the window, out onto that baffling, snowy landscape, Tala tried to figure out what it was.

 _I wonder how long it took them to get me here,_ she mused, tapping her finger on the window frame. _Because I must’ve been out for hours — it looks like it’s midday._

Before long, she became aware of her hair slowly soaking through the shirt that Leliana had given her; frowning, she reached back and twisted it up. This is why she always dried her hair immediately—

And then she realized how strange that was. 

She had passed out while in the shower. That’s why her hair was wet. But it was noon, hours since then, so why was it still like this? It wasn’t like anyone would constantly be wetting her hair while she was being moved.

_They all said I fell from a ‘rift’. Maybe that rift thing was like…a teleportation, thing?_

Tala almost burst out laughing at the very idea.

 _Too fanciful by half, idiot,_ she thought, _you’ve been reading too much fiction._

Her mind was running on empty, clearly, if _that_ was its destination, so she decided the best course of action was to flop back down onto the bed. _Sister_ Leliana had told her to rest, and there wasn’t much else to do anyway.

 _If this really is a kidnapping, I shouldn’t be doing this._ Tala was already yawning. _Oh, well. I would hope that they have the decency to finish me off in my sleep._

* * *

The door to her room slash holding cell creaked something awful when it opened. And it sounded even worse when it closed.

“Hello.”

It had been less than a day, but Tala was getting real tired of waking up to unfamiliar voices. Sitting up, she tried to summon another smile.

“Hi.”

Her visitor was another woman, dressed in the same pseudo-medieval fashion that everyone else wore — gloves, tunic, strategic pieces of armor. Although her face looked a little younger than Leliana’s, there were bags under her eyes that reminded Tala of her university days.

_Still. She’s very pretty. And a little less scary than Leliana. Is she here to interrogate me?_

The woman smiled back at her, and leaned against the doorframe. 

“My name is Eleanor. You made a bit of a stir last night,” she said, clear eyes searching Tala’s face. “We won’t hurt you. But we use real names around here.”

Tala felt like she was being verbally lead into a courtroom, and this Eleanor was to be her judge. 

“How do I know you won’t hurt me?”

Eleanor sighed. “Maybe it would’ve been better if you'd met Josephine first,” she muttered, evidently to herself. Straightening herself, she opened the door and gestured for Tala to join her.

“Let’s take a walk. One of the guards will give you a coat.”

After a beat, Tala saw an arm pass something to the other woman.

Shrugging on the offered garment, Tala felt a little, tiny spark of relief at the thought of fresh air. Even if the guards were going to trail them — and they probably would — it would still be more freedom than she’d had in that room.

There was nothing that could have prepared Tala for the scene that greeted her as they both stepped outside. Below them was a courtyard, surrounded by stone walls that looked like they were held together by faith and goodwill — stone walls, Tala realized, that they were currently standing on. People below them milled around in dresses and robes and armor, and in the distance she could hear the clanging of what she assumed would be a blacksmith.

It was too _real,_ too real to be a dream and too real to be one of those historical recreations that she’d seen on TV. That teleportation idea wasn’t looking too ridiculous anymore.

“This…”she stuttered, trying to control her breathing. What had that man called it? “This is Sky—thing? Skyhold?”

Eleanor was looking at her, concern tightening the corners of her mouth. Tala looked up at the sky, emptying her mind until her breathing slowed into something that could pass off as normal.

“Yes. You were found over there,” she said, once she was certain that Tala wasn’t about to pass out again. Tala’s eyes followed to the line of Eleanor’s gloved hand, and saw an innocent patch of ground. “More than a few dozen eyewitnesses swear that you fell out of a rift, one that immediately closed itself. You understand that that is highly unusual.”

“I’m sorry,” Tala said, resigned to being confused for the foreseeable future. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. You’re the second person that’s talked about a rift, and I don’t even know what that means.”

Her admission was met with raised eyebrows. Even the guards that loitered behind them, the picture of personal disinterest, stared.

“Where did you say you were from?”

 _I didn’t,_ Tala thought. _But nice try._

“Where I’m from, we don’t have these…rifts. At least not in the sky, which is what I’m guessing everyone means because they keep saying that I fell from one.”

Eleanor let out a low whistle. “You have never even heard of any rifts? Then your homeland is lucky.” Tilting her head, she continued. “You are not Fereldan.”

“No.”

“Or Orlesian.”

“No.”

“Or from the Free Marches. Unless you are—are you Parladian?” Tala thought she could hear a note of excitement in her voice.

“Um…no. I’m Asian.” She thought it best to end with the speculation, since all the guesses were nationalities she’d never even heard before.

A blank stare. Either she was, for some mysterious reason, pretending to not understand, or this woman had genuinely never heard of Asia, which was damn near impossible. Especially since it looked like a fair few of the people below had to have some roots there.

 _I_ cannot _believe that all of the evidence points to teleportation._

Taking a deep breath, Tala decided to just go for it. To rip the bandaid off, so to speak.

“We’re in the Frostback Mountains, I think, right?”

“Yes,” Eleanor said.

“And the Frostback Mountains…”

“...border Ferelden and Orlais,” Eleanor finished for her, reciting the line with the patience of a schoolmarm.

“And Ferelden and Orlais are…”

_Countries? Hopefully fictional?_

But Eleanor didn’t finish her statement this time. Instead, she was staring at her with an intensity that Tala couldn’t match; she lowered her gaze to the ground.

“You’re not even Thedosian,” Eleanor said, words coming out in a whisper. “This will be a longer conversation than I thought.”

“Yes. I think so,” Tala said, hoping against hope that it would be a productive one. Befuddlement had given way to an increasingly tight knot of panic in her chest; if she was right, and it was looking increasingly likely that she _was,_ she was in deep shit.

“There are some people I think you should meet,” Eleanor said in reply, placing her hand on Tala’s shoulder. “But first, I need your name.”

It went against all common sense, but with the revelations of the past ten minutes, it quite seem to apply anymore.

“I’m Tala.”


	4. The Last Continent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Is that metaphorical or are there actual dragons here?"
> 
> More answers are beginning to trickle in, but they are Even Worse.

Eleanor said something to one of the guards, who nodded and marched off. Nodding to Tala, she followed his path at a more leisurely pace, and Tala fell into step beside her.

“There’s too much to say in one conversation,” Eleanor told her. “So I’ll let you know the most important parts.”

Tala nodded, relieved to finally be getting some concrete information — it allowed her something to focus on. If she learned as much as she could, she could have _some_ feeling of control in this increasingly fucked-up situation.

“They’re called Fade Rifts,” Eleanor said. “Tears in the Veil that separates us from the Fade. Up until now, they’ve been exclusively bad news, as they allow demons and spirits to wreak havoc on whatever they can. The Inquisition is tasked with closing those rifts.”

“And then I fell out of one of those.” Even though she’d geared up for it, this explanation was shaping up to be a little…out there. “But I’m not a demon. Or a spirit. Le—I mean, Sister Leliana can tell you that.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Eleanor said, smiling. “But yours seems to have closed by itself. _That_ is highly unusual, because up until now, there had only been one thing proven to close them.”

“What is it?”

_She’s going to say something like magic, or something, because of course she would, with the way this day is going._

“It’s called the Anchor.” The words came a little slower than before. “A mark that allows the person who wields it to seal the rifts.”

“And how many people have this, um, anchor?”

“Only one.”

Tala exhaled sharply. That sounded like a world of responsibility, with a generous helping of crazy. “Wow. Only one person. I feel sorry for whoever that is.”

“Some called it a miracle,” Eleanor said, and Tala suddenly wondered if she’d caused offense. “A blessing conferred from Andraste to her Herald.”

Andraste, Herald. They were veering into unknown territory again. Thankfully, Eleanor wasn’t done talking.

“Actually, the mark's on the last person to fall out of a rift.”

“Wait. Wait, you don’t think,” Tala said, panic rising again as the implication of what Eleanor said hit her, “I don’t even _know_ how I would –“

“I wouldn’t worry,” Eleanor said, sounding, for the first time, just a little tired. “You don’t have it. I—we were hoping that perhaps…but it’s alright. We’ll do fine as we are.”

 _Oh. Maybe they thought I would be able to help._ A small pang of guilt went through Tala, though she knew it was ridiculous. Even if she was willing, it sounded like too much risk — if and when she fucked up, what would the consequences be? It wasn’t even her world.

“Here we are,” Eleanor said, breaking Tala’s reverie. They were standing in front of another door, which was in a lot better shape than hers. “After you.”

Tala went through.

 _Breathe in, breathe out, and you can do this,_ Tala promised herself, _I’ll have any conversation they want, and I’ll do it without snapping_. Breaking down was a luxury she would indulge in when she was alone.

She walked into the room, making sure to look at her surroundings carefully. It was clearly a study or an office of some kind — much nicer than her ‘room’, larger, with more furniture and even a carpet on the floor, but it was still a little drafty. Inside was a tall, blonde man who had shoulders like a linebacker and armor topped with the fluffiest collar she’d ever seen.

“Inquisitor,” he said in a deep, pleasant voice.

Tala’s head whipped around so fast that her neck almost seized up.

“Wait, _you’re_ the Inquisitor that everyone keeps talking about?”

_Welp, there goes the composure._

Eleanor shrugged at her, saying, “I’m sorry. I would have told you, but it was a nice break. This is Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition’s forces.”

“And you are Tala,” Cullen said, choosing to gloss over her little outburst. He looked her over in the same, practiced way that Leliana and Eleanor had done.

“Okay,” Tala said, determined once and for all to get the story straight. “Okay, I’ll answer any questions you have. But please, humor me.”

Cullen looked at Eleanor, who nodded in response.

Taking that as an okay signal, Tala took a deep breath. “The Fade Rifts. You said the Inquisition was in charge of closing them.”

“Yes,” she said.

“You’re the Inquisitor, so…I would assume you’re in charge of the whole thing.”

Eleanor’s lips twitched. “Yes, more or less.”

“So this place, Skyhold, it’s like, the headquarters of this Inquisition?”

“It is the center of all of the Inquisition’s operations, you’re correct,” Cullen said, speaking at last. “So you understand that it is crucial to keep Skyhold safe from any and all who look to compromise it.”

If Leliana was a knife, Cullen was a sledgehammer. His threat had all the subtlety of a punch in the face; Tala could’ve sworn that she heard Eleanor give the smallest sigh, but she moved past it.

“Then that mark that closes the rifts, the Anchor, the one given to the Herald person, that’s what the whole Inquisition—” she said, before she made the now glaringly obvious connection. Turning back to Eleanor, she continued, “That’s what the whole Inquisition depends on. And _you’re_ the Herald.”

If she had room for any other emotions, Tala would’ve felt a little insulted that Eleanor looked so impressed at her statement.

“Guilty as charged,” Eleanor said, a little less lightly than before. “Like I said, with the circumstances of your appearance, there was a brief hope that there would be two marks. It would have allowed us to…work more efficiently, in a way. The theological confusion in its wake would’ve been a small price to pay.”

_Theological. That’s another thing I’m going to have to figure out._

But Tala wasn’t quite finished yet. “You fell out of a rift, too,” she said. “Although…you’re from here. Right?”

“Yes. It seems that the similarities in our situations ended at the rift, unfortunately. We still have a mystery on our hands.”

At that, Cullen shifted slightly, looking her over once more. Clearly, he hadn’t been told all the pertinent details. 

“Oh.” This was a little less helpful than what was needed — she was still a few brushstrokes short of the bigger picture.

“I’ve sent for someone to meet you,” Eleanor said, when she went quiet. “He knows more about the Fade than most. Perhaps if the two of you talked, he could help.”

Eleanor’s timing was perfect, apparently, because at that moment the door opened, and the three of them turned towards the sound — a sound, Tala couldn’t help but notice, that resembled an actual door opening and _not_ a tacky haunted house effect.

A slim, bald man walked in, greeting Eleanor and Cullen.

“Inquisitor. Commander.”

“Solas,” both of them said in unison.

“I’m Tala,” she heard herself saying. Her mind was still trying to process everything, so when Tala noticed that this ‘Solas’ person was clearly not human, she just couldn’t bring herself to think too deeply about it. “I have a problem.”

She wished that the whole thing hadn’t started in the shower.

After Eleanor had dragged the sole, dusty chair to the centre of the room — “Maker’s breath, Cullen, all these books, when was the last time you sat down?” — Tala sat down. Conscious of the three of them towering over her, she began at the beginning.

Both Eleanor and Cullen had to look away when she stumbled through the whole waking up naked part, her embarrassment causing too many details to just keep coming out of her mouth; the latter’s ears were tinged with pink, and the former was polite enough to turn her snort of laughter into a cough.

To his credit, Solas’ attention never wavered. 

When she’d finished, belatedly realizing that she could’ve just left out the nakedness of it all, she waited for him to speak.

“So you’re saying that all of this is unfamiliar to you,” he said.

“I mean, yeah,” Tala replied, wondering if he’d missed the whole point of her story. “People keep talking about things that I've never heard about, like all these countries? The whole 'Middle Ages' look of it is the only thing that I vaguely recognize.”

At that, the other three glanced at each other.

It was Cullen who spoke. “The Middle Age? We’re over forty years into the Dragon Age now. And there is no recorded Middle Age.”

“Is that metaphorical or are there are actual _dragons_ here?”

“I take it that your world is devoid of them,” Solas said drily. “But yes, there are dragons. Most have been hunted to extinction, but some remain.”

“Why not,” Tala sighed. “Look, in my world, we don’t have this. There’s never been anything like a Fade Rift, or anything — I don’t even know what the Fade is.”

Solas sucked in a breath, leaning forward. “You have no Fade? Then there is no magic, where you’re from?”

“None whatsoever. We don’t even have, um…elves.”

The elf — _because what else could he be,_ Tala thought — in front of her was taken aback, and his eyes flashed in a way that made her sweat a little bit.

 _Oh God, I hope it’s not like some slur or something._ _I don’t want to offend the guy that they said could possibly help me._

“No elves?” he said. It was in the same cool tone as before, but she was sure she hadn’t imagined the anger in his eyes. “What happened to them?”

“Wha—no, nothing happened to them. They just never existed. There’s only humans in our world. I mean, there are animals, but in terms of what we’re talking about, there’s only humans.”

“I see,” came the reply. The anger was gone now, and that measured, even look was back in place.

“Well?” Eleanor spoke for the first time since Tala had started her story. “Is it Fade magic?”

“If so, it is magic I have never encountered before.”

 _So that’s it,_ Tala thought, stomach sinking. _He really doesn’t know?_

She was horrified to find that tears were starting to form in her eyes, so she dug her nails into her palms; she didn't even know these people, and crying would make the whole situation a hundred times worse. Blinking, Tala looked at Solas again, willing him to understand how much she hated not knowing.

In his eyes, she saw sympathy. But no eureka moment.

“I’m sorry that I cannot offer more advice. But if I come across any information that may help, be assured that I will let you know.”

“Thank you,” Tala said, dropping her gaze. She could feel the misery creep in; his promise was too vague. “I appreciate that you're trying to help.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. Saying his goodbyes, Solas left the office.

She felt Eleanor’s hand resting on her shoulder again. “I’m sorry. I really thought he could help.”

“It’s not your fault.” One apology was fine. Two was starting to feel like pity. If Cullen joined in with them, Tala thought she would scream. “If it’s okay, do you mind if I go back to the room? Alone?”

“Of course,” Eleanor said. Tala couldn’t tell if she was looking at her or not. She didn’t care. “I'll send along some clothes. And if you need anything else, let myself, Cullen, or Leliana know.”

“Thank you.” Tala was dimly aware that Eleanor had allowed her to go back, sans the guards; for that she was grateful.

Tala made her way back to the confines of that tiny room by herself, numb to the sounds and smells around her. As she sat on the pathetic, uncomfortable mattress, she finally allowed the tears to come.

Her dreams were flush with terror that night.


	5. A Loaded Gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't mind hard work. And I'm not a fool, either."
> 
> Enter Montilyet, The Lady Josephine.

Tala woke up just after dawn, with bloodshot eyes and a grimace on her face. Crying herself to sleep was therapeutic, but she couldn’t allow it to become a pattern. This was a familiar feeling, teetering on the edge of an indefinite period unrelenting misery; she _knew_ that she would fall if given the slightest push. And so, she began to form a half-baked plan.

But first, to feel human again.

After dressing herself in the clothes that Eleanor had actually remembered to send, the first thing she asked for were the directions to a toilet. Following the instructions given yet another armored individual, she found herself in front a structure that was very, very…not promising.

_Eurgh. How could I forget. That Solas guy mentioned magic. You’d think that someone could’ve thought of conjuring up something like plumbing._

Peeking inside, she was relieved to find it a lot cleaner than the smell had indicated. It was relatively straightforward as well; an almost comically long stretch of stone, regularly punctuated with openings that were obvious in their purpose, it was actually pretty familiar to her.

 _Okay, I can work with this,_ she thought, looking around to make sure she was alone. _It’s just a squat toilet, but without doors._

Afterwards, a little bit more comfortable but wishing that there had been some sort of soap, Tala stepped back out, intent on getting the second thing she needed: the whereabouts of the Inquisitor. 

Finding her way back to the courtyard, she began to notice yet another thing about this place that set her teeth on edge.

People stared.

Some were discreet, some were obvious, but it was evident by the way conversations hushed and people shifted that they were looking at _her_ , the freak who had fallen from the sky and hadn’t even gained anything by it.

 _Fuck this,_ Tala thought, scowling at a particularly shameless man. _Where’s Eleanor?_

Planting herself in front of the least threatening girl she could find, Tala tried to rise above the rudeness. Somewhat.

“Excuse me. Could you tell me where El—I mean, the Inquisitor is?”

The girl, who had automatically stepped back at being addressed by that same freak that she was talking about, looked down at her feet as she answered. “I’m sorry, um, miss. The Inquisitor’s just left with her party.”

_Oh. Fuck. Who am I gonna ask now?_

Noticing that the girl was about to scurry away, Tala moved sideways and blocked her escape.

“Wait,” she said, remembering Eleanor’s words to her the previous night. “What about Leliana? Where’s she?”

If the girl looked nervous before, she looked positively terrified now — Tala supposed that Leliana just had that effect on everyone.

“Pardon me, miss, but why would you need to speak to Sister Leliana?”

“I just do,” Tala said, a little sharper than she intended. Forcing herself to soften her tone, she continued. “I need to talk to her. Do you know where she is?”

“My apologies,” came the reply. “I wouldn’t know where Sister Leliana could be found.”

Sighing, Tala thanked her and stepped back.

 _Nice to know that it isn’t just me that’s freaked out by her._

Eleanor's words replaying in her mind, Tala looked up at the battlements. There _was_ one last person she could talk to.

 _I hope he’s helpful._

Trying her best to retrace her steps without asking for directions yet again, it took Tala a little longer to find Commander Cullen’s office.

It was only when stood in front of his door, about to knock that she hesitated. True, Eleanor had said she could ask Cullen for ‘anything’, but Tala wasn’t sure what constituted as things she could ask for. This was a little bit of a bigger favor than hand-me-down clothes.

And then suddenly the door flung open and someone collided into her, sending her sprawling to the ground.

“Maker! I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

Wondering how many times she had fallen since that cursed shower, Tala looked up and realized that she knew his face. Or rather, the tattoos on his face.

“It’s okay, it’s my fault,” Tala said, pausing before fishing his name from the depths of her tired, frustrated brain. “Knight-Captain Rylen.”

He grinned at her, and offered her a hand.

“Ah, so you remember me. I didn’t expect you to, seeing as you’d cracked your head on the ground. You’re Tala, correct?”

“Yeah. How did you know that?” Hoisting herself up, she took a second to dust off her pants. Tala had only been sent a few pairs of pants, and she wasn’t intending on ruining any of them.

“People have been talking about you. Word spreads quickly in the barracks.”

_Huh. He doesn’t beat around the bush._

She was saved from having to come up with an answer by the appearance of the Commander himself.

“Rylen, what—ah.”

“Just an accident. I’ll be leaving then,” Rylen said, with a nod, before striding off.

“Tala. Is everything alright?”

“Hi. I was just wondering if I could talk to you,” she said, before she lost her courage.

“Of course.” He stepped back, letting her enter the office. Following him, she noted that somehow, the stacks of paper on his desk had doubled overnight.

 _Okay, that_ might _work in my favor._

“How may I help you?” Cullen said, standing by his desk, but not quite sitting down. Arms folded, jaw set — he didn’t trust her, and he wasn’t hiding it.

_Never mind. This is gonna be a little more difficult than I thought._

When she’d gotten up that morning, she’d rehearsed, and was moderately confident in, her pitch. Needling and persuasion used to be her bread and butter, after all, but she’d imagined the more open, receptive Eleanor as her audience. It wasn’t like Tala didn’t understand his distrust, but it definitely wasn’t ideal.

 _Don’t be a coward. He hasn’t said no yet. Just try to sound reasonable._

“Yesterday, Solas said that he would try to help me. But he said he didn’t know anything yet. I could be here for…weeks. Maybe months.” It was imperative that her words came out calm. The elf had seemed less than optimistic, so she only had a slight hope that her prediction would be proven wrong, but hysterics would send the wrong idea about her competence.

There was a pause, one that was a hair’s breadth too long, before he responded. “I can’t claim his knowledge of magic. But you’re right, it will probably take some time.”

“Exactly. I don’t want to sit around and just wait for him to get it right. I want to be useful.”

Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that — in his surprise, the line of his shoulders released its tension, but only momentarily. Before he could reply, she pressed on.

“I need to be able to do something. I have experience as a personal assistant, and I can help with any paperwork or administration. Write letters, make schedules, anything that the Inquisition needs.” Tala gestured to his desk, feeling very aware that she knew nothing about the military; to a soldier, it was definitely obvious.

And a _soldier_ he was, every inch of him. Broad, clad almost entirely in armor – the final touch was the scar on his lip, completing the truly imposing image. But leadership of anything meant delegation, and if he was any good at his job, he would recognize the value, however slight, of what she was offering.

Unfortunately for her, Cullen’s denial was decisive.

“I’m capable of handling my own reports,” was the crushing reply. “If you really want to serve, the Inquisition’s army accepts recruits, regardless of their background.”

Tala _highly_ doubted that she’d ever learn how to fight like a soldier in an army, and to be frank, she had no desire to.

“I don’t know anything about fighting.” This wasn’t strictly true, but she doubted that her teenage scuffles were up to par with military standards.

“Neither did a good many of our soldiers, but they were willing and able to learn.” His choice in words made Tala bristle. Lazy, he was calling her, in so many words. Even though she could’ve locked herself in her room and not done a damn thing until a solution was found.

 _Fucking hell,_ she thought, biting back the rude reply that almost slipped out of her lips. _I’m offering to help. I didn’t even ask to get paid._

“The Commander might not require your skills, but perhaps they could be applied elsewhere.” 

At the cool, familiar voice, Tala jumped. How long had Leliana been standing there? Sneaking a look at Cullen, she was inordinately pleased to see him lose just a tiny bit of that oh-so-righteous composure.

“Leliana.”

Although she returned his greeting, Leliana didn’t move from her spot from the door, instead gazing at Tala with the same, appraising look as she had the day before. “You were looking for me.” It wasn’t a question.

“I was, actually, but the girl I asked didn’t seem like she knew where you’d be found.” Besides, what did Leliana _do,_ anyway? She was definitely high up, but the cloak and dagger atmosphere surrounding her wasn’t very indicative of what her job was.

“I’ve had to address some issues,” Leliana replied. “But I came when I could. The Inquisitor had offered to help you as much as possible, after all.”

Tala waited for her to continue, not knowing what to say to that kind of non-statement.

“The Inquisition is trying to build political alliances within Southern Thedas — our ambassador will always welcome help. But it is hard work, and she doesn’t suffer fools.”

Cullen was looking at his colleague with raised eyebrows, though he didn’t say anything.

“I don’t mind hard work.” In fact, the busier she was, the better. “And I’m not a fool, either.”

Her answer seemed to please Leliana, because she finally moved.

“Come with me. I’ll introduce you.”

After making their goodbyes to Cullen — which in Tala’s case was a consciously ungrateful monosyllable — the two of them began walking to what she could only assume was the ambassador’s office. 

It was scarcely thirty seconds before curiosity got the better of her.

“What do you do?”

“Gathering information, mostly,” Leliana said, sounding a little amused; the vague reply was what Tala had come to expect, but it shed a sudden light on the redhead.

_Gathering information. And she clearly terrifies most people for a reason they don’t like to talk about – I think I get it now._

The Inquisition had a military force, but there was evidently more than that. Despite herself, Tala could feel a little excitement – this was the first time she’d ever spoken to a _spy._ She’d only ever read about them in books. Granted, she’d also only ever read about 90% of this in books, but that path of thinking was currently forbidden territory. 

Keeping her voice light, she replied with the brevity Leliana seemed to favor.

“I see.”

“I expect you do.”

In no time at all, they were in front of _another_ door, which Leliana actually took the time to knock on. Tala braced herself for whoever was on the other side; if the ambassador was anything like Leliana and Cullen, she would be looking at a less than ideal workplace environment. But anything was better than wallowing in that tiny room.

“Come in!”

The inside of the office was much of the same, really, but it felt a little richer, a little more inviting.

“Josephine. I hope this isn’t a bad time,” Leliana addressed a woman behind the large desk. “This is Tala, the woman who fell from the rift. Tala, this the Lady Josephine Montilyet, ambassador and chief diplomat of the Inquisition.”

The Lady Josephine stood, far more gracefully than most, and greeted Leliana with a warm smile. “It’s lovely to meet you. The Inquisitor has let me know about your unique situation, and I’d be happy to help, however I can. What brings you to my office?”

Much of Tala’s apprehension had been dispelled almost as soon as Josephine began speaking; warm and pleasant, she was far more welcoming than almost anyone else Tala had met since she’d arrived.

“Actually, I was hoping that I could help _you._ ”

The talk went more smoothly than Tala could’ve hoped for, dissipating more and more of her tension. Josephine, to her gratitude, was direct without being blunt, giving her a very brief outline of what the Inquisition was hoping to accomplish and what she could expect in her work. Even Leliana had put her at ease, by dint of not entering the conversation at all.

“I must ask,” Josephine said, “You’ve said that you’ve done much of this work before, no? But you have never worked in diplomacy.”

“It’s mostly paperwork I’m familiar with. I studied politics, among other things, when I was a student.” That had been a few years ago, but Tala was reasonably sure that she’d remembered most of the useful parts.

“The politics of your world may be different to ours.”

“Then I’ll learn it. I’m a quick study.”

“Then that is half the battle already won. I will see you after noon. There is a lot to learn, and we must get you started straight away. In fact,” Josephine said, looking down and glancing over a few papers, “I think I will be able join you. We can talk business over lunch. Will you be joining us, Leliana?”

“I’m afraid I have to work, but I will both of you later. Welcome to the Inquisition, Tala.” After giving Josephine a small smile, she left. 

“Yes, she is usually like that.” Josephine’s voice was halfway between amused and exasperated.

“Oh,” Tala replied, a little flustered that she’d been caught staring like an idiot _after_ she’d spent twenty minutes stressing to them her professionalism. “I guess it helps with her job, right?”

“The late Divine always chose the best,” Josephine replied, finally standing. “But that is a conversation to be had later. You must be hungry — I do not know what you are used to eating, but our kitchens are stocked as well as they can be. And I’ve been told by a reliable source that there will be custard pastries today, so we must hurry.” 

Following Josephine outside, Tala could only marvel at this piece of luck; surely, the other shoe would drop. Surely it wasn't going to be this easy. 

* * *

As it turned out, 'easy' certainly wasn't a term to describe the afternoon, but her luck held up. There were no loopholes, no betrayals, and if she squinted hard enough, she could even pretend to see the similarities between this job and her old one.

 _Josephine wasn’t kidding about the workload,_ Tala thought as she made her way back to the room, well past midnight. Before setting her loose on a veritable mountain of paperwork, Josephine had given her a very informative crash course on Thedas and its current…predicament. The whole time she spoke, Tala could only listen on in disbelief.

 _I thought I was prepared for the crazy, but not_ that _level of crazy. But at least some things stay the same._

“I see Josephine has started you as she means to go on. Many others have tried to keep up, but she’s a force unto herself.”

Tala was so tired, she didn’t even jump when she saw Leliana waiting for her.

“Well, she warned me, so it’s fair play,” Tala said, stifling a yawn. “Can I help you?”

“I’m just here as a professional courtesy. Josephine will no doubt have told you, but one can never be too clear.”

_Oh. This sounds like a threat. She’s gonna threaten me._

“The success of the Inquisition is paramount to the survival of Thedas. You have not been here long, but if there is one thing that you will understand, it is that I, and many others, will do anything to destroy any threat.”

With every word, it seemed like the night had drawn in closer around them — but Tala knew that she had nothing to hide. She was nobody, so she was safe. And that knowledge gave her a flash of bravery in the face of the dangerous woman.

“You’ll be watching me?”

That earned Tala a smile, to her surprise. “You _are_ a quick study. That will serve you well. Goodnight.”

Two minutes later, when Tala crawled into bed, bone weary, the unfairness of the whole situation crossed her mind _._

 _Is this karma? What did I_ do _to be dropped into a world that’s on the brink of the apocalypse?_

“Please,” she whispered to herself, hoping that some higher power could hear her. “This is a world with _magic._ Please let me go home, please don't let me mess up.”

The little voice inside her mind sneered at her pathetic attempt at a plea, but it was soon silenced by the merciful oblivion of sleep.


	6. The More Things Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I have a favor to ask of you," Josephine said.
> 
> Tala is roped into lunch and is reminded of human nature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for mentions of attempted sexual assault. It's not graphic nor does it extend far but it is there.

Every day, Tala would look for Solas, a hopeful question on her lips. And every day, he answered in the negative.

“It is something that I have not encountered before,” he told her, “I have yet to find even where to begin.”

The only thing that made this thankless routine less maddening was that she was too busy to think, just as she’d planned. Josephine, true to Leliana’s word, was a force unto herself. Her new assistant was kept so busy from sunrise to past-midnight with messages and letters and paperwork that it was a whole two weeks before Tala’s new reality intruded again.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” Josephine said after Tala entered her office. Though it was just after dawn, Josephine had nary a single ruffle out of place, as put together as ever. “The delegation sent by King Alistair has arrived. It is short notice, but several in the party have expressed a wish to meet you.”

“Me? Why?” Tala had assumed — and hoped — that on the off chance she would be asked to go to these meetings, she would be asked to stand in the back, like a wall accessory.

“It seems that they have heard some details about your unusual situation, so naturally, they are quite curious. I understand that this is not what you signed up for, but if we reject this request, informal though it is, it will seem as we have something hide.”

That last sentence struck Tala as strange.

“But there _is_ nothing to hide, right?” Plenty of people knew that she fell out of a rift. And there were definitely people who knew that she was foreign to the nth degree.

Josephine cleared her throat with a delicate cough. “As with most rumors, they only contain half of the truth. People know that you fell from a rift, but there is where the certainty ends. There are stories of you coming from a distant land, from the north of Par Vollen, or even across the Amaranthine Ocean. The Inquisitor thought it best to keep the true story under wraps, until we have thoroughly investigated how you got here.”

“Oh.” Tala hadn’t known that she had become a sort of government secret. There would be time to deal with the implications of that later — there was a more pressing issue at hand. “I see. But I’m not sure this is a good idea…what if I say the wrong thing and mess something up?”

A week of observing the correspondence that Josephine sent out was enough for her to know that the wordplay involved was beyond her; there were too many requests hidden in favors masked as requests that were sometimes thinly veiled threats.

“There is no need to worry; they will not expect you to be well-versed in these matters — perhaps they may even be endeared by your unfamiliarity of their customs. Thank the Maker that they are Fereldan, and not Orlesian.” _Or you would embarrass yourself even more,_ said the delicate silence that Josephine left with her statement. “They will expect you at lunch, so there is time to instruct you on the basics. And of course, you will have to borrow some appropriate attire. King Alistair conducts a fairly informal court, but you will still be seen as representing the Inquisition.”

Ugh.

Even _more_ perfect that it was a social event, _not_ just a meeting. But it wasn’t like there was really much of a choice – she needed the Inquisition’s goodwill, especially Josephine’s, if she had any chance of making it back home.

* * *

Six hours and a 'quick' etiquette lesson later, Tala found herself in a slightly too small dress, hobnobbing with some of Ferelden’s elite and absolutely bored out of her mind. Between the formalities and Josephine’s instruction to remain as vague as she could about her origins, the talks were mind-numbing.

 _Friendly smile, friendly smile, even if they’re impertinent,_ Tala reminded herself, after sitting through her fifth conversation with another overly-curious visitor. Maintaining friendly relations was an important part of the job; Josephine always stressed this.

“The Inquisition needs resources, and if we are to grow, we need a significant amount of them, more than we have at the moment. I’m sure you’ve noticed that Skyhold is in disrepair, and could benefit from some improvement,” the diplomat had said to her on that first day. “With what happened at Haven…military power is important, but people often forget that it must be supported through funding. _That_ is secured through political alliances.”

Surprising, really how much seemed to be the same. Schmoozing rich people without losing too much dignity was something she’d seen Dave do countless times. There were, of course, considerably less weapons at those events, but she had sadly taken that for granted. 

“I’m afraid I must go back to my companions,” said Ser-whose-named-escaped-her at last. “But I have thoroughly enjoyed our conversation. I hope to see more of you, during this visit.”

As she rattled off some lie about hoping they would talk again, Tala saw, through the corner of her eye, waitstaff bringing in bottles of what she knew to be wine, and oh God, why was this guy still talking.

 _Fucking finally,_ she thought, saying goodbye one more time before the Ser actually got the hint and left. Waiting for all of them to be brought in — let it not be said that the foreign girl _ran_ towards the booze — Tala caught the eye of Eleanor.

The poor Inquisitor, who had arrived at Skyhold not two hours before, gave a sympathetic grimace. Accosted by Josephine and forced to mingle as well, she had just about managed to disentangle herself from an old man who was half-shouting his words at her. By the end of their talk, half the room knew that he was _very_ passionate about beekeeping. 

_There’s wine,_ Tala mouthed, pointing to the prize. Unfortunately, the two seconds it took for Eleanor to understand was just enough for a passing lady to pounce on her with small talk.

Wincing in sympathy for the Inquisitor’s fate, Tala herself only made it two steps towards a waiter before Josephine materialized in front of her, with yet another spectator.

“Tala, this is Ser Hagen, sworn to Bann Vigard.” _God, this is relentless,_ Tala thought as she focused on the man in front of her. Ser Hagen was good-looking, tall, with light brown hair and fair skin, dressed in the same furs, leather and armor as the rest of the Fereldans.

“It is lovely to meet you, Lady Tala,” he said, kissing her hand and giving her the sort of gallant smile one would expect from a man in literal shining armor. “I was just telling the Lady Ambassador how much I desired to meet you.”

That same Lady Ambassador had already fluttered off, no doubt making sure that the wine was up to her standards. 

“It’s my pleasure, Ser Hagen. And it’s just Tala, if you don’t mind,” she said, smiling and hoping that he had something interesting to say. If she heard the phrase ‘simply fascinating’ ever again, it would be far too soon. “I’m not nobility.”

“Tala it is, then, though rest assured you are as lovely as any noblewoman of Ferelden.” The compliment was offered with another boyish smile. In the part of her mind that could still be bothered to care, she noted that he was actually kind of charming, in a silly, storybook way. “If I could trouble you for a favor, I was hoping that you would do me the honor of showing me around Skyhold. It’s the first time that I’ve visited, you see. I am sure that it will be a far more interesting tour with someone as pretty as you by my side.”

She almost said no. She _wanted_ to say no, but she _had_ promised Josephine she would try her best. This man answered directly to the visiting dignitary — she couldn’t really afford to offend him. Besides, it would make for a nice change of scenery.

So Tala accepted his invitation as gracefully as she could, and even remembered to take his arm like a proper lady.

 _I think Josephine could’ve at least let me have a glass,_ Tala thought as they passed by trays laden with refreshments on their way out. There was an incredibly short, incredibly hairy man wandering around, sampling the wine with a glee that made her envious.

“Simply _fascinating_ , how you arrived in Skyhold,” Ser Hagen began, oblivious to her longing. “Everyone is saying how strange it was.”

_There it is. Well, I guess we took the scenic route, but he arrived at the same place as everybody else. Friendly smile._

“Yes, it was very strange.”

“It just seems so fantastic, the idea that —”

At this point, Tala allowed herself the luxury of zoning out. By this time, she pretty much knew exactly the back and forth; her conversation partners so far weren’t overburdened with creativity. Instead, she cast her mind to the work that she was supposed to be doing, mapping out a schedule in her head.

_If I get started on following up with that list of suppliers now, I could have most of those letters written out by dinnertime._

Ser Hagen was still talking.

“— that my family is well-regarded for. Although I suppose you may not have those in your homeland?”

For the life of her, she couldn’t remember what he said, but it probably didn’t matter. Murmuring a negative, she let her mind drift again as he prattled on.

_Where was I? Oh yeah, the suppliers. If I get them done by dinnertime, I can start looking at some of the correspondence from that guy in Orlais…I wish I had my laptop. This would be so much easier if they had laptops. Why am I in a world without laptops?_

She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that it wasn’t until she noticed the slight dampness in the air when something registered as _wrong._ Looking around, she realized that they were now in a secluded corner, in an area that was in considerable disrepair.

Skin beginning to crawl, Tala tried to turn back, only to find Ser Hagen’s grip on her arm tighten. 

_Shit._

He was looking down at her, an expression in his eyes that she knew far too well.

_This is not good._

“Now that we are alone,” he whispered, pulling her towards him, “I must tell you, the gossip did not do you justice. I didn’t expect you to be so…alluring. So exotic.”

Then he had the gall to rest his other hand on her hip.

“I think it’s time we went back to the party. Josephine might be wondering where I am,” Tala said, trying to sound relaxed, deliberately not looking at his slow, wandering hand. _I can’t believe I let my guard down. I should’ve noticed when we turned in…I shouldn’t have turned my back. Why the fuck was I not more careful?_

“It would be preferable if we stayed out here,” he said, voice even lower now, walking both of them forward so that her back was just shy of the wall. Maybe he thought it was romantic. Or maybe the bastard knew exactly what he was doing, and he was feeding off the anger that was she was now radiating. Either way, she needed to get out.

“I’m afraid you have the wrong idea.” She tried to move again, but his fingers dug into her. It was a threat, one that he didn’t need to verbalize for her to understand.

“I’m only looking for a kiss, darling.”

_Fuck this._

Giving him her sweetest smile, Tala kneed the valiant Ser Hagen in the balls.

Or at least she tried to. Swearing as the sharp pain radiated through her leg – _that damned armor_ – she switched tactics and wrapped her arms around his neck, headbutting him as hard as she could. As she made contact, he reeled back; Tala felt a sense of grim satisfaction in the knowledge that she’d caused him pain. With any luck, she’d also broken his nose.

And then she ran.

Tala sprinted so fast that she almost couldn’t think, only aware that she needed to get back to the party, where the presence of people meant that he couldn’t presume to make a move on her.

 _Where the hell am I?_ Her thoughts caught up to her as she found herself at another dead end; cursing, she spun on her heel, trying not to lose her momentum.

Rounding the corner, her mind registered too late that there were people almost directly in front of her.

_Oh, for fu—_

“Easy,” someone said, as Tala clipped their shoulder, stumbling a little as she twisted to avoid contact. A hand shot out to help steady her, but it was too much, everything was too recent. Panting, she twisted out of their reach, before she recognized who she had just bumped into.

Relief washed over her as she looked up to see Commander Cullen, flanked by Knight-Captain Rylen and a tall, redheaded woman she recognized only by sight.

“Are you alright?”

 _No,_ she wanted to say, but her throat was dry and the breaths came short. He frowned, looking at her face carefully.

“You look quite shaken. Is there anything I can do?”

Still she couldn’t answer, trying to collect herself. A million things swirled in her mind, but none came to the tip of her tongue.

All coherent thoughts were scrambled as she heard footsteps behind her. 

“Ser Hagen,” the three soldiers said in near-unison, greeting him.

Stymied by her confusion, Tala was rooted to the spot. To acknowledge him was repellent, but to make another run for it would surely look suspicious. In fact, the only silver lining of the whole miserable situation was the fact that he had the beginnings of a rather large bruise just under his eye.

_Good. He deserves it._

“Commander, Lady Tala,” he said in the same easy tone he had used on her not fifteen minutes ago. “I had just stepped outside to take a breath of fresh air. I shall see you inside.” The last statement was directed at her, or so she could only presume; Tala turned her head so that she didn’t have to keep looking at him as he walked past.

When he left, the three looked at her again. By the look in all of their eyes, they had put two and two together, though none voiced it out loud.

“Would you like someone to take you back to your room?” Cullen asked, after her breathing slowed a little. He had the good sense to step back, giving her space – for that, she was grateful. 

“No,” Tala said, finally able to form words. “No, I think—I mean, I need to go back to the party. Josephine will be looking for me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” If she went missing for much longer, Josephine would definitely question her. And Tala didn’t want to find herself in that situation — there'd be very little to gain from it.

“Very well.” Cullen didn’t seem convinced, but didn’t argue. “Belinda will escort you.”

The redheaded woman nodded, and stepped forward. Tala whispered a quiet ‘thank you’ to Cullen, and the two of them began to make their way back to that _fucking_ party.

It was a blessing that Belinda walked in silence, allowing Tala a chance to compose herself. As they reached the entrance, they heard Josephine’s voice ring out.

“Tala, there you are! Ser Hagen just told me—” Josephine stopped, looking between Tala and her impromptu bodyguard. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Tala blurted out, before Belinda could say or do anything that indicated what really happened. “Um, I just got lost, and Belinda was kind enough to walk me back. Thank you, by the way,” she said, turning to the woman by her side. “I’m sorry for the trouble.”

Belinda gave her a small smile, and told her it was no problem. Saluting Josephine, the soldier walked off.

“I see,” Josephine said, still looking at her carefully. “Well, the Inquisitor is asking for you. Perhaps you would like to join her conversation with Bann Vigard. I would tell you to try the wine as well, but between the dignitaries and Varric, there is none left.”

“That’s okay,” Tala said, relieved that Josephine dropped it. “I wasn’t too bothered about the wine.”

The rest of the lunch passed in a blur; it was impossible for Tala to relax, not with the slimy Ser Hagen still walking around without a care in the world, but it _did_ pass, and she was spared the strain of having one-on-one conversations.

After all the nobles had left, Josephine pulled her aside. “Perhaps now you will be able to tell me what really happened.”

Tala chewed on her bottom lip, unable to look Josephine in the eye, not wanting to go over it again. Once had been enough, and she didn’t want to have to actually _tell_ the whole humiliating story only to have it swept under the rug. “I told you, I—”

“You and Ser Hagen leave. When he returns, he says that you were indisposed. Then you come back, looking shaken, but you only say you were lost. I am not a fool, Tala. And I am not heartless. If something happened, you will find me a willing confidant. Perhaps there may even be something that I can do.”

Most people tended to forget, since she was always smiles and graciousness, that Josephine was as sharp as a tack. Of course she’d see past the flimsy excuse — however, that was not what Tala wanted. 

Maybe she should tell her. Josephine was offering to listen. But Ser Hagen was a noble, and Tala was just some person they’d met two weeks ago. If she said what had happened, he could very well just claim she was lying, or worse, say she attacked _him_. Who would believe that he was in the wrong?

It was almost laughable, really. A world so far removed from her own and here was the same, familiar, unpleasant problem, dressed in different feathers. People were just assholes in ways that spanned across worlds.

“I don’t want any trouble,” Tala said, starting to feel more and more miserable. _Why can’t she just let it go?_ “I’m fine, I promise.” 

Josephine looked disappointed, but didn’t press her. “Very well. Perhaps you should take the afternoon off.” Raising her hand when she could see the protest on Tala’s face, she continued. “There is no work for you that cannot be done tomorrow. Go to the baths, relax. Or to the tavern, if you wish. Mention my name, and they will put it on my tab.”

“But—”

The set of the lady’s jaw did not brook any dissent. “It does not matter where, but if you are in my office when the meeting has concluded, I will personally enforce your leave with more _drastic_ measures. Take care, Tala.”

With that bizarre, touching threat, she swept off, leaving Tala with no small measure of surprise and a tiny spark of affection.

* * *

Rather than going down to the public baths which would certainly have more people than she could handle, Tala hauled several buckets of water up to her room and scrubbed the feel of Ser Hagen off of her. After the makeshift bath and an hour’s silent reflection, she finally felt calm enough to venture out.

Very quickly, she noticed that she had a new shadow.

Leliana had made no secret of having her under surveillance, but this was the first time she’d actually been able to discern a figure in Inquisition uniform following her from a short distance behind. Craning her head round, she deliberately stared until the soldier was forced to acknowledge her and come forward.

“Did Sister Leliana send you?”

“No, miss.” When she spoke, Tala realized with slight perturbation that she was young, possibly a teenager still.

“Lady Josephine?” After that little speech, it wouldn’t be far-fetched for her boss to be very thorough in making sure her orders were followed. To Tala’s surprise, she shook her head again.

“Commander Cullen, miss. He told me to keep an eye out for you.”

 _Cullen?_ That was—oh. It took Tala a second before she recalled his concern, tinted as the image of him was with the adrenaline and disgust of that moment. _That’s…decent of him._ Still, it was a touch unnecessary, and drew more attention than she wanted.

“What’s your name?”

“Arlene, miss.”

“Well, Arlene, tell him thank you, but it’s alright. I’ll make sure it won’t happen again.” The second part was true, at least; having copied out the itinerary an exhausting number of times, she knew exactly which areas to avoid at the moment. It was highly unlikely that Ser Hagen—

As the memory of his face swam into view, Tala had to repress a shudder. Best not to dwell on those thoughts, or she would ruin her day even further.

“Yes, miss.”

Ten minutes later, as she wandered aimlessly on the barracks, she caught Arlene lurking behind her again. Exasperated, Tala beckoned her forward.

“The Commander says that he is in the position to assign soldiers as he sees fit,” Arlene said by way of greeting.

It was too late, and she was too tired to try to argue with the Commander through this poor messenger-slash-bodyguard. “How long?”

“Until the end of the week, miss.” In other words, until the Fereldan dignitaries left. He really didn’t have to do that…but still. It was surprisingly decent.

“I see.” When she didn’t know how to continue, Arlene retreated into the background again, remaining professional in spite of the curtness.

As the silence overtook the scene once more, it occurred to Tala that there was nothing for her to _do._ It wasn’t as if she’d been a social butterfly back home, but there were at least people that could reliably be called upon for drinks or a night out. Tapping her fingers on the weathered stone, she suddenly remembered Josephine’s offer.

When nothing else was to be done…

“I wonder if they have vodka.”


	7. Night's Thousand Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Care for a drink? It's on me."
> 
> When it rains, it pours. Tala is made to tentatively step out of the all-consuming routine she's set up for herself in Skyhold for one afternoon.

Drinking alone before dinner may rightfully be called gauche, but that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, really, and everything was shit; this was a world that had none of the comforts of home, a sky falling in with demons, magic that seemed to help _everyone_ but her, topped off with the multiverse-spanning shittiness of creepy men.

So she had damned well earned the right to drink as much as she could stomach.

Regrettably, Skyhold was vodka-less, so Tala had to make do with a suspicious looking type of ale. After settling at a table with a clear vantage point, laden with as much of the drink she could carry, she allowed herself to indulge in the one hobby that was still available to her: people-watching.

Aware of Arlene’s still-present gaze just a little way off, she looked around at the scant handful of people in the tavern. Although it was still respectably bright outside, the inside of the tavern was lit by torchlight — _like every other room in this fucking castle,_ she thought, determined to be angry at everything — so it was a little difficult to see.

Still, she made do, amusing herself with made-up stories about the patrons. The woman with the lipstick, making eyes at the classic Hollywood type — they had a one night fling, and she was chasing the high again. The man with the puffed up chest, flexing with every drink he slammed back, he peaked in whatever version they had of high school. The rowdy group in the corner had argued over duties that day, so were about 2 rounds away from an honest-to-God fistfight.

And on and on, as more people trickled in and the noise became a constant, comforting buzz.

As she returned to her table after her second round, there was a noticeable hush in the revelry. Craning her neck to see the source of this change, Tala caught a glimpse of a man with the most immaculate coiffed mustache she had ever seen. Curious, she watched as he strolled in, looking perfectly unbothered at the whispers and glances that were shot towards him as people scrambled out of his way.

 _Too perfectly unbothered,_ was her observation. In Tala’s experience, the truly disaffected were rare; whether or not this guy was the real deal…well. People who dressed like _that_ tended to be as self-conscious of their image as everyone else.

Keeping her eyes trained on him, she watched as he ordered a drink and sat down, noting the way that almost everyone continued to avoid him. Despite her best intentions, Tala almost felt pity — the tableaux was crystal clear. People disliked him, or were afraid of him, or both. Whatever the reason, he was alone.

It was after she reached the bottom of her third glass that Tala decided to drink her next round with the mustachioed man. There was no rhyme or reason — in fact, considering her very recent experience, it was positively stupid — but still, she did it. Perhaps the image was too familiar for comfort.

_Or maybe I’m just getting sentimental._

Winding her way around people, she ordered yet more ale and plunked herself down next to him, Arlene trailing not far behind.

The tavern stilled again.

Not that she cared; Tala was more concerned about his reaction, trying to gauge whether her company would be rebuffed. Surely not all socialization was stilted and formal in this world? He hadn’t said anything yet, but nothing in his face suggested hostility. Good. She could work with that.

“Care for a drink? It’s on me. It’s not my money, so no need to feel guilty.” Mustache looked at her, head tilting slightly as he considered her offer.

Her daily allotment of patience long since used up, Tala took it as an adequate reply. “Of course, the ale’s been shit so far, but it’s alcohol. _Free_ alcohol.”

Rich and precise, his voice exactly matched his name. “I _should_ warn you that it is remarkably awful all the way through,” he said, giving her a smile that bordered on becoming a smirk. “Dorian Pavus. I suspect you’ve already heard many things about me, most of it unflattering.”

“Nice to meet you, Dorian Pavus. I’m Tala.” Not wanting to make direct contact, she pushed a drink towards him. “And, uh, no offense, but I don’t think I’ve really heard about you yet.”

It was a half-truth — the name did sound slightly familiar, but now wasn’t the time to be sifting through her memories. She was here to _drink_.

“Really? Maybe the rumor mill has already gotten tired of the claims of blood magic,” Dorian said, taking a sip from his flagon. He made the action as dramatic as possible, making sure that she saw how he grimaced at the smell of the drink; in another world, he could’ve been a theatre kid.

She liked that about him. Certainly wouldn’t be boring, at any rate.

Dorian was still speaking. “But I have heard about _you_. You’ve rather stumped Solas, I hear, though I imagine he hasn’t quite phrased it like that.”

Tala decided to take a few large gulps of her drink before she answered. That wasn’t a topic of conversation she’d gotten overly fond of. “You don’t need to tell me. I’ve been asking him almost every day since I’ve gotten here, and zilch.”

This man, whoever he may be, was a lot more sensitive to her reluctance than most of the people she had met that day. “My apologies,” he said, sounding like he meant it. “I can imagine that hearing that grows tiring.”

“S’fine,” she replied, glad that Dorian came to conclusion on his own. “It’s only natural. I’d be asking it too, if I saw someone fell out of the sky.”

“Take this as an opportunity to turn the tables, then.” He spread his arms, in a mock attempt to look beatific and all-knowing. “You’re just in luck. Given that I’m wildly intelligent and possess impeccable taste, you couldn’t have chosen a better conversational partner.”

“Impeccable taste?” Her words dripped with more sarcasm than she’d allowed herself since she’d arrived. Tala couldn’t help herself; his easy camaraderie almost seemed to welcome it.

To her pleasure, Dorian replied with the same spirit. “Don’t tell me you’re also incapable of appreciating style when it’s _right_ in front of you. There’s already a regrettable amount of those people in the Inquisitor’s circle who couldn’t recognize fashion if it danced in front of them, wearing nothing but that _thing_ the Iron Bull calls an outfit.”

It had been a mistake to take a sip of her drink at that moment — Dorian threw back his head and laughed as she coughed up a good amount of liquid mid-giggle.

It was a little hypocritical for her to keep laughing at the Iron Bull’s expense — all she had were the small rotation of simple, neat clothes that Josephine had given her. They weren’t _bad,_ because nothing Josephine gave out was bad, they just weren’t anything to be jealous of. But the Iron Bull’s harness thing really was a little ridiculous.

“See! You agree with me, don’t you. Tragic, isn’t it. The most important cause in living history and I’m carrying its aesthetic on my shoulders.” Satisfied that he’d punctuated his point with enough dramatics, Dorian returned to his ale. For someone who made such a show of disliking the stuff, he couldn’t seem to stop drinking it.

“People seem to like it, though. The Iron Bull’s, uh, ‘look’, quote unquote.” Tala had heard the gossip about the Iron Bull, oh yes. It was impossible to avoid it. Josephine even had a rote response to the discreet inquiries about the Qunari’s status from overeager allies. “Maybe it’s the horns. I can’t imagine it’d be very fun to get a shirt over those.”

“That’s a reason, _not_ an excuse.”

“Or maybe he’s just really into his body.” As she spoke, Tala found that she had to lean her head on her hand. It was much comfier like that, allowing the pleasant fuzziness envelop her mind. “If I had those muscles I’d show them off too.”

This time, it was Dorian who snorted ale out of his nose. “Don’t let him hear that. His ego is big enough. Besides, presentation is as important as actually having the physique.”

“Just saying! If he was where I’m from, I bet he’d be walking around with a pleather crop top and some ripped jeans. _Maybe_ some leather accessories, just to keep up with his look. Actually –”

Dorian had to stop her. “I’m sorry, did I hear that right? A ‘pleather’ crop top? And what are _jeans_?”

Ten minutes, a borrowed scrap of paper, a badly drawn figure and several explanations later, both Tala and Dorian were holding their sides in with laughter.

“That’s…you must never show this to him. We don’t need him getting any ideas,” he said, staring at Tala’s awful rendition of the Iron Bull’s 21st hypothetical century outfit. “Maker’s—this looks like an Orlesian’s wet dream turned nightmare.”

“No, it’s fashion! Avant garde. Enough people see it, he could call it a trend. Shake up the status quo.”

“If he walked out in this, there would be half a dozen Chantry sisters bursting into flame.”

“ _Exactly._ That’s the—”

A deep, rumbling voice interrupted. “This a joke I should get in on?”

Speak of the _fucking_ devil. It was definitely the ale’s fault, because _someone_ tell her why her first instinct was to dive across the table and shove the drawing down her top.

“Hi.” There was nothing else she could say, really, to the bemused faces of Dorian and the infamous Iron Bull, who was somehow drinking out of a tankard that was bigger than her head. Somewhere to the side, she could imagine Arlene was sighing. “I don’t think we’ve met. Officially.”

“Iron Bull,” he said, flashing her the grin that she’d heard half of Skyhold whisper about. “And you’re Tala.”

Dorian Pavus, it seemed, was wise enough to stop talking when he was caught unawares, content with watching the scene unfold. Tala wished she could say the same.

“So.”

“So.” Iron Bull was clearly getting a kick out of this, but he didn’t say anything else. Yet. 

“Can I help you?”

“Just thought I’d drop by to let you know, it _is_ mainly the horns,” he said, his shit-eating grin getting wider by the second. “Though it’s also difficult to find clothes that enhance my ‘physique’ _._ If you have any suggestions for how to show off my hard work, I’m all ears.”

Well, _shit._ How the hell had he heard them? And more importantly, why wasn’t there another damn rift opening up right now to swallow her whole?

Guffawing at her gobsmacked expression, the Iron Bull carried on his merry way, winking at Dorian as he passed. Bastard probably made sure to flex, too, just so he could say he caught them staring.

“For fuck’s – is he always like that?” Briefly, she considered just chugging a few more drinks to forget the exchange, but puking all over the tavern probably wouldn’t help. Probably.

“Shameless? Absolutely,” Dorian said, seemingly unaffected by the Iron Bull’s blatant flirting. “You’d be surprised how often it works. I know I am.” 

“I can see how it could work, but kinda wish I didn’t see _how_ it works. How the fuck did he even hear me? Did he butt in just to make me jump?”

“That’s the Qun for you,” was the cheerful reply. “The listening in on conversations, that is. The tendency to proposition everyone is mostly him.”

“Propositioning? Is that what that was?” Stupid question, but pulling out the sarcasm helped with her embarrassment.

“Don’t tell me that you’re thinking about ‘riding the bull’,” he said, drawing out the last three words. “The Inquisitor gets enough complaints about the noise as it is.”

“Eurgh. Riding the bull.” How could anyone say that with a straight face?

“My sentiments precisely. Now,” he said, looking at the empty glasses scattered across the table. “For the next round, I heard that they’ve got a shipment of dwarven ale. If you think the Fereldan brew is bad, you are in for an _agonizing_ experience. I’ll go and get some.”

“Wait, no, I’ll get it. Free booze, remember?”

“Even better.” 

Tapping her foot as she waited for their drinks, Tala found that she was the most relaxed she’d been in a fortnight. Whatever most people may think, Dorian Pavus seemed to be part of the good sort. Or maybe it was just the drinks. Either way, wouldn’t hurt to hold onto that feeling because, well, what else did she have?

* * *

Several hours of easy conversation later, Tala said goodbye to her new acquaintance, and began the shaky walk back. In the back of her mind, she noted that Arlene had swapped out with another soldier, sometime between then and now — Cullen wasn’t joking around anymore than Josephine was. Not that she’d ever heard anyone talk about his joke-making abilities. Taking deep gulps of the crisp mountain air, an obnoxious voice reminded her that her breath probably stank of alcohol. 

_Argh, that's just too much. Too far to brush my teeth. I'll brush twice tomorrow morning._

Pouring herself into bed as she finally, _finally_ made it to her room, sleep overtook her almost immediately, and she settled in for what promised to be blissful oblivion. For the past two weeks, the limited rest she’d gotten had done a lot to curb any and all subconscious bullshit, which was always a welcome effect.

But her luck had chosen the worst day to run out.

As her mind sunk deeper into sleep, Tala became aware that she was…somewhere. Not the site of her usual nightmares, but it certainly wasn’t sunshine and rainbows.

_This is new._

Ruins were the first thing she saw. There were ruins everywhere, blanketed in gray and mist and silence, glass shattered and stone crumbling. The shadows that crowded in the corners of her mind were shapeless, flitting away when she tried to get a closer look at them.

Then the whispering started. Or maybe it had always been there?

 _Run,_ they said, in their hundreds, in their thousands, a legion of disembodied voices that began to press in on her from everywhere. _You are not of our kind, outsider. Run._

_Fucking hell._

She _wanted_ to run, to get away from this horror show, but her dream-self felt so _heavy._

 _Wake up_. Tala tried to say it aloud, shout herself awake, but her throat had refused to work as well. _Wake up. This is a dream, you’re in a dream, WAKE UP!_

Still she stood there, frozen, as the voices came closer, malice seeping into the air and poisoning her lungs.

The shadows were still there, still in the edges of her vision, but now they were taking on shapes that her mind struggled to comprehend. She had to get out. The darkness…it was pulsing. Wherever she was, it had come alive.

Tears started to flow in her desperation to get away. She had to wake up, she _had_ to leave this nightmare, but she couldn’t even _move_. Screwing her eyes shut as hard as she could, Tala did the only thing that her panicked mind could think of, and she bit down on her cheek as hard as she could.

As soon as the sharp pain stabbed through her, Tala jolted awake — sheets drenched, heart hammering, and mouth filled with blood.

_Holy shit._


	8. Recess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How did you know that?" 
> 
> It's maddening, how Tala always finds herself on the side of not knowing enough.

It was impossible to go back to sleep with the adrenaline pumping through her, so Tala yanked the covers off, hands still shaking, and got dressed. Opening the door as quietly as she possibly could, she took a deep breath of fresh air.

Outside was good, even if it was minus a million degrees. Outside wasn’t in her room, lying wide awake as she contemplated the eldritch abomination that her mind had concocted. Unfortunately, outside was also plagued with a biting wind that was slowly picking up its pace, so Tala knew she had to find somewhere else to brood.

_Where to go, where to go…_

Pulling her shawl around her — _thank goodness for Josephine,_ she thought for perhaps the millionth time — Tala braced herself against the cold and wound her way down the fort. Apart from the guards on night duty and the stragglers finally resting from their work or revelry, Skyhold was the quietest she’d ever heard it; not even the cooks were awake yet.

_Oh, duh, the kitchen._

The quintessential nightmare recovery spot. Not that she’d be able to have any of her usual comforts, since she had no idea how to cook with the archaic stoves — there was a very high chance it would end less than pleasantly, and it would just be embarrassing. But there’d be bread, or fruit, or something. Josephine and her crew spent far too much time working on funding for Skyhold to have empty pantries.

_An apple wouldn’t be too bad…but I would kill for a cup of hot chocolate. Guess beggars can’t be choosers._

Careful to look as un-sketchy as she could, Tala found her destination and crept inside. No one had ever said she couldn’t go in, but it was always easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

Her heart leapt with joy when she saw that one of the cooking fires hadn’t quite died down yet, casting light and heat and promising some contentment. It took a minute of hunting around in the half-darkness, but she managed to locate a big-ish chair and drag it towards a spot that promised maximum warmth.

_Oh, thank God. I can just sit here for a bit, see if I can find some snacks, and—_

A soft voice piped up. “The unknown coming in at all sides, just one more stroke against me. How much more can I take?”

Giving a small cry of fear, Tala dropped the piece of furniture right on her toe.

“Shit!”

Evidently, the kitchen wasn’t as empty as she’d hoped.

After checking that her heart hadn’t stopped and her foot was intact, her eyes darted to the innumerable hidden spots of the room, trying to see who she’d just walked in on.

“Who’s there?”

A thin, ragged looking person separated themselves from the flickering shadows, dressed in threadbare clothing and a floppy hat. If it hadn’t been for the incredibly ominous words, the stranger looked about as nonthreatening as a person could be. In fact, she was pretty sure that one strong gust of wind would blow him away.

Opening her mouth, she began to ask the obvious question, only for him to beat her to the punch.

“You had a nightmare, full of ruins and shadows and whispers.” He spoke with a cadence that was unusual in a way Tala couldn’t quite pinpoint, peering at her through stringy blonde hair. “I’m Cole.”

“How did you know that?” She didn’t _think_ that it was that obvious. And how did he know about the ruins? Unless…

“Are you…a mage?” Maybe he was telepathic — who knew what magic could do. “Can you read my mind?”

“No, he didn’t want to be. And yes, but not in the way most think.” Making a soft humming noise, Cole settled cross-legged on a table. Tala waited for him to elaborate, but the sentence that followed only raised more questions. 

“I’m sorry. You told me forgetting’s easier, but it came back. It always comes back.”

Okay, so Cole wasn’t going to give a straight explanation. But what he’d said was a little more concerning, so she let it slide in favor of figuring out what, exactly, he’d meant by ‘forget’.

“What do you mean, I told you? We haven’t met before. And forget what?”

“Your dream.”

Again, no forthcoming explanation.

“That…doesn’t answer my question.” Tala was sure that she came off a little slow, but it was already getting hard to keep up with this Cole person. It was like she was given a white sheet of paper and then told to fill in the blanks. “Even if I did forget my dream, how could you…when I haven't...you said you weren’t a mage.”

“I’m not a mage,” he replied, but still he didn’t try to clarify himself in any way that made sense.

Tala couldn’t make heads nor tails of this conversation, and Cole’s half-answers were beginning to make her grind her teeth. Maybe if she just stuck to one topic at a time.

“My nightmare. How could you know what I was dreaming about?”

“You always have them.” There was a faint sense of relief in his answer, like he was glad that she’d begun to catch up. “Different faces, from before, but it’s always the same.”

“I…” Tala’s heart began to beat faster, and though the _how_ didn’t make sense, she became aware that Cole knew more than should be possible. His gaze was gentle, but it went right through her.

“ _It wasn’t your fault._ You know a lie when you hear one, but you can’t disagree, or else they’ll prove you right. How do people keep going? What’s the meaning of it?” 

Tears were coming, unbidden, as she heard the words that he surely had lifted from her mind. How could he do that, if he wasn’t a mage? To expose her so casually, so exactly, to be weighed and measured for things he had no way of knowing, it _had_ to be magic.

“W-wait,” Tala said before he continued grinding her composure into dust, trying not to choke on the words. “That…”

The sound of footsteps came from outside, but even though she didn’t want Cole to keep talking, Tala wasn’t sure it was a welcome interruption. There were too many questions for this conversation to just end.

“I have to go,” Cole said, as the door opened.

“Hey! I’m not—”

“Who goes there?” Whipping around to see _who_ was skulking around at this unholy hour, it took a moment before she recognized the shining blond hair and broad shoulders of the person who was coming closer towards her.

“It’s me, Cul—mander,” she said, thinking he may take offense to informality. “I mean, Commander, it’s me, Tala.”

“What are you doing here?” In the dim light, she could just about see his posture relax a little. Even though he was without most of his armor, Tala had no doubt that he’d still be dangerous to someone like her — it honestly wouldn’t have been a surprise if he pulled a sword out of nowhere.

“I was just…” Tala started, turning to Cole for help with an explanation. Only Cole wasn’t there. “Wait, I could’ve sworn—”

As she was trying to figure out how he’d managed to slip away, Cullen cleared his throat. When Tala turned back to him, confused, she saw that he was staring at the exact spot where Cole should’ve been.

Lowering his chin slightly, a knot formed between Cullen’s eyebrows, as if he was concentrating on something; then he sighed, and that was the end of it. Looking at her again, he repeated his question.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I came here for some warmth and I just happened to meet Cole.”

“I see,” he said. “He’s…interesting.” The commander didn’t say anything else; instead, he was observing her expression, like he was trying to guess her next move.

Whatever his intent, flowing conversation didn’t seem to be on the menu at the moment. Tala couldn’t very well just sit down and relax the way she wanted to, so she figured that she might as well wring some answers from him.

“You know Cole?”

“In a manner, yes.” Cullen didn’t move, staying at a distance that could be called impolite, but at least he was talking in a way that made sense. “He means well, but some find him unsettling.”

So it wasn’t just her. Not that it was comforting, but at least she wasn’t hallucinating people that just appeared in kitchens and psychoanalyzed her until she cried. “Is he always like that?”

Tala thought she could see a grimace on his face as he answered. “There are times he’s more ‘like that’ than others, but yes. As I said, he’s not dangerous.”

“Is he a mage?”

“No. He’s…maybe I’m not the best person to ask. Solas is more of an expert in _those_ matters than I am.”

 _Another answer that’s not an answer_. _Perfect,_ Tala thought, resisting the urge to sigh. At least she’d be able to ask Solas a new question the next time she saw him.

Cullen cleared his throat again. “If that’s all, I’ll be going now.”

As he opened the door to go, Tala remembered something important. “Wait!”

Even the way Cullen reacted to her outburst screamed ‘military training’, controlled and careful as he turned around.

“I forgot to say thanks. For sending people to watch over me after—that was really thoughtful of you.”

The sincerity in his reply was the most straightforward thing she’d heard since entering the kitchen.

“There’s no need to thank me _._ Skyhold is the centre of the Inquisition; if people can’t feel safe _here_ , then we’re not doing our jobs properly.”

 _How very noble of him,_ she thought, fidgeting with the edge of her shawl. _But now I don’t know what to say to that._

“All the same, it was nice of you.” There. Another thank you, and the whole thing could be wrapped up gracefully.

“You’re welcome,” was his reply. And then a hesitation, before he continued. “Ser Hagen may be nobility, but neither Josephine nor the Inquisitor would expect you to stay silent for his benefit. I’m sure they would be willing to listen, if you choose to talk to them.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tala said, with no intent to follow up on that particular topic. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Once she was sure she was alone again, Tala finally picked up the forgotten chair and flopped down, as close to the oven as she dared; hunting for food was no longer a priority when comfort beckoned.

Yawning, she combed through the events of the day in her mind. The last 24 hours had been…not the best, choppy and unpredictable in the worst way, so it was nice to just sit there, listening to the crackle of the dying fire.

Cole was by far the most unsettling person she’d ever met, especially the way that he…that he…

_Wait._

Frowning, Tala closed her eyes and tried to replay the conversation.

Every time she tried to reach for the memory, it felt fuzzy. It was easy to picture herself entering the kitchen, but why was she there? Hearing his voice, that was also clear, but what about after? The answers were there, but they kept eluding her.

She was _sure_ that it was important…

* * *

Unluckily, Tala dozed off long enough for an irate cook to kick her out of the kitchen, muttering something about ‘sneak-thieves’ and ‘missing peaches’. Trying not to groan like a 60 year-old as her joints complained about her chair-nap, she made her apologies and scurried back to her room to grasp at the scant hour of sleep still left to her.

Later at the office, Josephine greeted her assistant as chirpy as ever, but frowned when she saw the deep circles under Tala’s eyes.

“Is there something the matter? Did you not sleep well? If it’s about the luncheon yesterday—”

Wanting the conversation to remain clear of any mention of ‘the luncheon’, Tala cut her off. “No, it’s not that. I took the afternoon off, like you said. I even went down to the tavern to blow off some steam. I think I’m just a little hungover, that’s all.”

Her muscles protested again as she lowered herself at the desk Josephine had given her, and Tala made a mental note to find cushions if she were ever to repeat the experience.

Reassured, Josephine relaxed and smiled her sunny smile before continuing to attack the ever-present stack of paperwork on her desk. “Cabot told me that you became acquainted with Dorian last night,” she said. “He is engaging, no? Conversation with him rarely disappoints.”

“Definitely not. He’s very witty.” She then recalled how wary the crowd had been. “Could I ask a question?”

“I believe you already have,” the ambassador replied. Normally, Tala would’ve given a snide reply, but Josephine was just so _nice_ , that nothing she said seemed condescending.

“What does Dorian do?” It was a little more polite than asking ‘why are so many people that afraid of him and should I also be scared?’.

“Did he not tell you? He is a mage, from Tevinter.”

 _A mage? He never mentioned that…unless he did? I would’ve thought I’d remember that piece of information, though. Shame. I’ve been dying to find out more about magic._ Tala kind of wished Solas was a little less aloof, like Dorian — there were a dozen things she’d wanted to ask, but chickened out every time.

“He helped us back when we were still in Haven.” Josephine never mentioned Haven much, but when she did, it was easy to notice the way her mouth tightened. Evidently, it was a sore subject. “Now he acts as Eleanor’s companion, accompanying her when she travels on Inquisition business.”

“So he’s a bodyguard?” Tala had seen Eleanor train with a wicked looking bow, but she supposed that war never protested the presence of more soldiers.

The silvery laugh that charmed so many people bubbled out from the lady diplomat.

“Be careful that neither of them hear that. Eleanor would say that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, and Dorian would think it plebian. But they do look out for each other.”

“Duly noted,” Tala said, her memory finally deciding to humor her; now that Josephine had reminded her, she could kind of remember Dorian grandiose complaints about the Inquisitor’s tendency to charge headfirst into trouble.

_Huh. I probably should’ve been able to piece that together, to be honest. Not my brightest moment._

Something in Josephine's eye gleamed, and she actually put her pen down to look into the distance. “You know, I often wonder how she looks out there, when she fights. Varric’s told me about how she moves with her bow — he says it’s a sight to behold. Violence will always be my last resort, but when needs must…people will be singing about Eleanor’s deeds for years to come.”

A small sigh escaped her lips before she renewed her attention to work, and Tala could’ve sworn there was a faint flush on her cheeks; however, the lady diplomat remained otherwise composed.

“But there is too much work to be done to daydream, yes?”

When Tala murmured a polite agreement, Josephine continued, crisp and businesslike as ever. “While I’m gone for the next meeting, could you update the plans for Lady Guinevere’s next trip to Denerim? There are some notes from yesterday on your desk; I have noted some changes that have to be made for her engagements.”

Nodding, Tala moved to pull her phone out of her pocket to set a reminder before remembering that there were no phones here.

 _Dammit,_ she cursed silently, _you’d think I wouldn’t keep doing that_.

Instead, she had to make do, as always, with using a piece of paper, trying to keep it as concise as possible to minimize energy spent on writing. As she set it aside, Tala saw that her boss was looking at her, curious. 

“If _I_ may ask a question,” Josephine said. When Tala gave her the go-ahead, she continued. “I’ve often seen you reach for your pocket when you are given a task. What is that for? It’s a little unusual — is it a habit from your homeland?”

As usual, nothing escaped Josephine’s gaze. Feeling a little sheepish, Tala wondered how twitchy she must’ve looked; and _then_ she wondered how to begin to explain the wonders of smartphones to a woman who had to use a candlestick fixed on a clipboard.

“It’s a little hard to explain. But back home, we have these things called ‘phones’ — little devices that were like this,” she said, tracing a rectangle in the air with her hands. “It has this screen, like a glass surface, and you can touch it so that the display changes and it shows you things. Almost everyone uses them all the time, to message people, to look things up, to set reminders, et cetera. I use mine so often, I guess it’s second nature for me to reach for it.”

Pausing, Tala worried that she looked a little stupid, babbling on while trying to mime swiping and typing on her phone. Not that she needed to worry; Josephine was absorbed in the demonstration.

“That’s _amazing!_ ” She was leaning all the way forward now, hanging on to every word. Then her eyes narrowed slightly. “Wait. Is this true, or has Leliana told you to say this? She's an incorrigible prankster at times, and she loves a set-up.”

Weird, trying to picture the shadowy woman pulling a prank, but Josephine's statement seemed sincere. “It’s true, I swear! I used it all the time, it was practically stuck to my hand.”

Satisfied that she was being told the truth, Josephine laced her fingers under her chin and let out an impressed huff of air. “It is strange, to think how different your life has been. Such a device sounds marvelous — I wish I could see it for myself.”

Tala allowed herself to ruminate about how technology made living so much easier. The sooner she got home, the better; she really, _really_ missed her phone.

Josephine mistook her reminiscing for offence and gasped, and raising her hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry! That was insensitive of me. We don't have to keep—”

“No, no, it’s alright.” Strangely, it was. This was the first time that Tala had willingly talked about her life with someone, and it actually helped with homesickness a little. Josephine was a good audience, too — her curiosity was sort of infectious. “I don’t really mind talking about that with you.”

Emboldened by Tala’s cautious encouragement, Josephine launched into another question. “Solas told me that your world is without magic. As much as it causes division and strife, I cannot imagine Thedas without it. What is that like?”

If Tala had been asked that question two weeks ago, she couldn’t have replied. There was such a fundamental difference, and it was still a struggle to wrap her head around magic just being ‘there’ — to distill it all into one answer was a challenge.

But then she experienced two weeks of frustrations: doing her work with no laptop, bathing with no running water, reading by candlelight, and a hundred other things that shouldn’t be as annoying as they were. Now, the response came without hesitation.

“Convenient. It’s a lot more convenient.”

“Convenient?” Josephine laughed a little, clearly not having expected that answer. “How so?”

“Just…everything,” Tala said, waving her hands in the direction of everywhere. “It’s not just my phone. So many things are more convenient. We have these things called laptops, and it’s basically like a phone, only they can do a lot more. You know we don’t have to handwrite documents anymore?”

Josephine’s impressed ‘No!’ made Tala giggle a bit.

“If you write it on a laptop you only have to write it once, it saves so much time. And there’s so much more! The Internet, it connects everyones phones and laptops and you can use it to do so much. Microwaves, so you don't have to cook. My hair dryer, which...dries my hair. And I've never had an electric blanket back home but Skyhold could really use some electric blankets, it’ll be a lot easier to sleep at night.”

"Surely such devices have some basis in magic?" 

"It's not magic, it's science. Humans kept building better and better versions of things until we..."

As they worked the hour away, Josephine continued asking questions and Tala continued to sing praises about the digital age. During a lull, it occurred to the latter that Josephine had been dying to ask about this topic, but had withheld from doing so out of kindness; that tiny spark of affection flared up again.

 _You don’t want to get too attached,_ she reminded herself as her boss left for the meeting with promises of continuing the conversation over lunch. _You can’t bring any of them back with you._

Still, it was nice to have some people to talk to — it made waiting easier.

Humming, Tala began to get to work.


	9. One Step Forward and Two Steps Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Even an idiot could put two and two together."
> 
> A full twenty-four hours of revelations, big and small.

Later in the afternoon, Tala cornered the unfortunate Solas again. Her guard that day – a gruff, imposing woman named Imogen – was definitely uncomfortable with the elf, choosing to hang back at a considerable distance. Not that Solas seemed to mind; if he wasn’t so dignified, Tala was sure that he would’ve rolled his eyes at the twitchy soldier.

“Have you found anything?” Bracing herself against the inevitable disappointment, she was almost bowled over when she got a different reply.

“Actually, I have…come to some conclusions. But I must warn you, it may not be what you want to hear.”

Excitement dropped into a slow, bubbling pit of dread in her heart. This was it. This was the result of two weeks of mind-numbing patience. Balling the fabric of her shirt in her left hand, Tala waited for him to deliver the crushing news.

Solas, to his credit, tried to break it gently.

“I told you on your first day that there is reason to believe the force that brought you here is not that of ordinary magic. It has been two weeks since that I have searched through the Fade for the truth of your arrival, and yet have found nothing.”

_Shit. That’s bad. That’s_ really _bad. Does that mean he’s giving up?_

“Are you _sure_?” Tala was sure that the question sounded petulant to someone who was an expert like Solas was supposed to be, but this was her life. She couldn’t just smile and nod and apologize for wasting his time. “If it’s not ordinary magic, then it’s something else, right? It happened to Eleanor too! There has to be _something_ you can find out about it.” 

_Idiot, he already said that Eleanor’s thing was different,_ Tala thought.

It had been the second time he questioned her, wanting to gain more information about a magic-free world. After she’d given him his answers and asked for some of her own, the elf had given a crisp, succinct explanation about the Fade and the mark on Eleanor’s hand, finishing with a polite request to leave him alone.

“That is different, as I have told you before,” Solas said, as she’d predicted. There was a slight frown on his face, though he was gracious enough to let his annoyance slide. “I would not say that I have found nothing if the opposite were true.”

Before Tala could slink away to find a private place and punch something, Solas stopped her with a question. “Tell me, in your world, what does it mean to dream?”

He had just given her a lengthy sentence in this world and he was asking her to wax philosophical about dreams?

“I told you before, didn’t I? People think that dreaming is your subconscious trying to process the information you’ve received, every night,” she said. That’s what she’d learned, back on Earth where things were usually halfway logical. “But it’s different here. You said that it happens when people visit the Fade.”

“Yes, that is correct.” Judging by the clear surprise in his voice, Solas must’ve had little faith in her listening skills. “I am aware that your people’s dreams are insular…but I ask you what it _means_.”

She wondered where he was taking this conversation. Pondering the meaning of dreams didn’t seem like it would help in this situation. But still Tala responded, despite herself. Maybe retreading old ground would help him.

“I guess…it depends. For some people, it’s just electrical impulses. For others, it’s really important, culturally or personally.” For her, dreaming tended to be literal nightmares, but he didn’t need to know. That was personal.

“Fascinating,” he replied. His expression turned calculating, probably ruminating on the strangeness of her alien customs. “For it to have such a different foundation…I was right, after all. It is so wholly separate—”

“What do you mean, separate?”

Solas’ gaze turned towards her, away from his speculation. “You say that it is an everyday occurrence for you to dream—”

“I mean, yeah. Everyone dreams, even if you don’t remember it.”

“—yet I have yet to encounter you in the Fade.”

Wanting to rip her hair out seemed to be a constant state of being in this world. “What does that matter? Why would I encounter you there at all? What does that mean apart from the fact that I’m not from here?” Each question was punctuated with a rise in volume, with a telltale tremor in her voice.

“It means,” he said, his voice as sharp as his eyes, “that you have no connection to the Fade at all. I had hoped that your presence here meant that you would come to touch it, in time, but that does not seem to be the case. The spirits have yet to encounter anything like you.”

As slowly as she could, Tala exhaled. Frustration or no, having a screaming match with this man would do nothing to help. “Okay. So it isn’t the Fade. Does that mean you can’t do anything about it?”

“It simply means that there is very little chance of finding anything in this vein. It is the nature of the Fade; you cannot just force answers from somewhere they do not exist. Knowing what does not work is almost as helpful as knowing what does.”

A pithy expression, but it didn’t do anything to diminish the wide, yawning black space of whatever the hell was going to happen to her in the future. Solas didn’t seem to indicate any hope of sending her back anytime soon.

Tala spent the walk back to the office wrapped in her own bad mood. Pushing open the door, she saw that Josephine was back early, because of course there had to be another spectator to her looming breakdown.

Thankful that Imogen stayed outside, Tala gave a tired ‘hello’ and tried to bury herself in work again.

“Is something the matter?”

If only her boss didn’t care so much for her own wellbeing.

“It’s nothing. It’s just…um…Solas told me some bad news. Worse news, than usual.”

_This is ridiculous,_ she scolded herself. _Two and a bit weeks of waiting and you’re at the end of your rope. If you crack now you might as well just give up and condemn yourself to living here for the rest of your life._

“Oh, Tala. Would you like to talk about it?” Josephine’s reaction was everything that was sympathetic and geared towards making her snap under the strain.

“No, I—”

The desk below her blurred, and Tala was horrified to find that tears were dripping onto the paper and threatening to smudge the ink.

_There’s been too much crying recently. When I get home, I won’t cry again for the rest of my God-forsaken life._

“Here, drink this.” Something slid into her field of vision; Tala had no idea how Josephine had conjured up a cup of steaming hot tea, but she accepted it, grateful. “Is there anything I can do?”

Shaking her head, Tala couldn’t help but hiccup as she sipped on the drink. Whatever it was, the aroma was soothing, and it did a lot to regulate her breathing.

Once Tala had wiped away her embarrassment, she managed to make eye contact with her concerned boss. “I’m sorry.”

Tutting, Josephine stepped back and rummaged around in her desk. “There is nothing to apologize for. What has happened to you would rattle most. Here, have some candies.”

Gaping at the elegant little box that Josephine held out to her, Tala almost started bawling.

* * *

That night, after an afternoon of much sympathy and a little firm prodding from Josephine, Tala stepped foot into Skyhold’s library for the first time.

“You will feel better if you know what you’re up against.” The ambassador was right; though realistically her chances of finding something Solas didn’t already know was slim, doing her own research would occupy her and soothe her own feelings.

But now Tala found herself staring at shelves upon shelves of dusty old tomes. Starting was always the most difficult part, but there wasn’t a single reference point to jump off of.

“Looking for something?” Jumping a foot in the air, Tala saw a figure coming around the corner.

“Jesus Christ,” she gasped, as Dorian came face to face with her. “Don’t creep up on me like that.”

“ _I_ wasn’t the one skulking around the library at midnight,” he retorted.

“You’re the one that just came out of a shadowy corner, so I’m gonna go ahead and say we’re both skulkers.”

“Skulking is beneath me,” Dorian sniffed. “And I’m supposed to be here. Have you come to pick up some light bedtime reading? There’s an abundance of riveting propaganda here, despite my best efforts.”

Since he was standing next to a candle, his features were thrown into sharp relief; Tala was glad to see that his expression had lost none of its teasing shrewdness.

“I want to find something on magic, like just the basics? The _really_ basic basics, starting with what magic is, precisely.”

Letting out a pleased sounding hum, Dorian said, “You’re lucky you ran into me, then. Are we talking the practical aspects or pure theory?”

“Theory. Definitely theory.” As much as it would be cool to look at how to make fireballs, it wasn’t like she could do anything with the information. “The most basic theory is what I need for now. Like an entry-level kind of text.”

“Well, I’m sure we’ll be able to find something for you.” Turning on his heel, Dorian set off, and Tala could only trail behind him.

After a half-hour of Dorian pulling out book after book from the most random places on the shelves – “Excuse the mess, I haven’t had time to force a workable system yet” – Tala returned to her room, laden with a hefty armful of ‘light’ reading.

Lighting the large yellow candle on her bedside table, Tala sat cross-legged on the bed, picked a title at random, and began to read.

_Magic, for good or for ill, is interwoven into the fabric of Thedas. Those who are in possession of innate magical gifts draw from the Fade; the nature of this power is, as an art, ever-shifting…_

* * *

A good ten chapters later, when her stomach kept rumbling into her stream of consciousness, Tala decided that it was time for a change of scenery. Marking her page, she tucked the book under arm, grabbed her candle and a blanket, then made a beeline towards the kitchen.

_It’ll be even better this time,_ she daydreamed, already feeling the phantom warmth of the fire. 

Walking on uneven stone without dropping hot wax on herself required far too much concentration, but make it she did; maneuvering her supplies, Tala opened the door with her elbow.

Upon entering, she was relieved to find that the fire burning even brighter than it had the night before; the good news continued when she found that after careful inspection, there were no Coles or otherwise lying in wait.

“Oh, thank God.”

Managing to locate some bread, it wasn’t long before she was set up as close to the fire as she dared, cuddled in her blanket and buried in her reading again.

_This is kinda nice. If I had some music, it would be perfect._

After little while after starting an ominous section on demons, the _stupid_ door opened; she only had time to turn her head before the intruder.

“Who—Tala? What are you doing here?”

For the second night in a row, Tala found herself face to face with one Commander Cullen, in a state of undress that would’ve made some of the more adventurous Chantry sisters swoon.

Straightening up and shoving her half-eaten apple under the blanket, she blurted out, “Sorry, I just wanted a good spot to read.”

He must’ve said something in reply, because his mouth was moving, but Tala was held captive by the sight of his face in the firelight.

_Haggard,_ was the first word that came to mind. Bloodshot eyes, chapped lips, five o’clock shadow and sallow skin that seemed to just barely cling to his bones. Even his voice, usually so clear, powerful, was hoarse.

It was grotesque, and she pitied him without knowing why.

And then his mouth was no longer moving, and he was looking at her, expecting an answer.

Clearing her throat, Tala hoped he hadn’t caught her stare. “Sorry, I’m so tired I kind of zoned out.”

“It’s…nothing. My apologies for disturbing you – I was just coming to get something.”

With some reluctance, he moved, slow and measured, towards the shelves. Tala noticed that the way Cullen held himself was a little unnatural – unwilling to fully turn his back to her, even when he was elbow deep in supplies, his torso was twisted at an almost painful-looking angle.

The commander didn’t try to make small talk, so Tala tried to get back to the how’s and why’s of demonic possession. But by some perverse instinct, she couldn’t help but sneak glances over the top of the page as he rummaged around.

She could’ve sworn that he was shaking.

_It’s from the cold,_ Tala thought, and then wondered why she was trying to cover up for him in the safety of her own mind. _Why’s he only wearing that shirt?_

As much as she tried to be subtle about it, Cullen became conscious of her staring. Forcing a cough, he covered his mouth with one hand and gestured vaguely with the other.

“That blasted cook is always rearranging the place. I can’t seem to find a mortar and pestle.” 

“Oh, um.” Wracking her brain, Tala had a vague recollection of seeing a cluster of them; pointing, she said, “I think it’s by those bowls.”

After a moment of searching there, he gave a grunt of annoyance. “It’s not here.”

“Hang on, let me look.” With a pang of regret, she unwrapped herself from the warmth of the cocoon of blanket, and joined him by the shelves. Crouching, she shoved the items in front aside and began to search. “I think it’s somewhere over…aha!”

The elusive mortar and pestles _were_ where she saw them, tucked in an inconvenient spot near the back. Not surprising, given that half of the cooks seemed to be allergic to any sort of flavor.

“Oh, I see.” _Holy shit._ The words came out far closer to her ear than she’d expected; tightening her grip around the smooth wood in her hands, worry burned through her mind.

_Is this another_ —

Before she could finish that grim thought, Cullen made an embarrassed noise and shot up, stumbling back a few paces.

“Sorry. I was just looking—I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Letting out a long breath, Tala got up. “It’s okay. It’s just, you know.” Whether or not he did know, it wasn’t really worth finishing the thought out loud.

Stepping forward, she held out the prize.

“Thank you,” he said, curving his lips in an imitation of a smile. “I won’t disturb you any longer.”

He wasn’t as close as before, but Tala got an even clearer view of his face – the commander was under more strain than was first apparent. Even now, away from the heat of the fire, his forehead was beaded with perspiration.

“It’s no problem, really.”

As both moved away from the spot – Cullen to the door, Tala to her makeshift reading nook – she caught a whiff of something…medicinal? The actual scent was foreign, but it brought to mind the ointment that her grandmother used to rub on aches and bruises.

Even an idiot could put two and two together.

Sitting down on the edge of her chair, Tala picked up the abandoned book, but found that she didn’t want to open it yet.

“Are you alright?” Why the question came out of her mouth, she had no idea. Cullen wasn’t about to unload all his grievances on her, a near-stranger. If by some miracle he confessed to whatever was happening to him, what would she even say?

“Yes. A late night, nothing more.”

Relief followed his lie. Now she could go back to her research and do him a favor by forgetting what she was sure was a reluctant show of weakness.

_Don’t keep staring like that,_ she reminded herself. _Nobody likes to be stared at._

Cullen already had his hand on the door. “Again, thank you for your help.” With this last statement of gratitude, he was gone.

Shivering, Tala wrapped herself up again and put him out of her thoughts. Ailing commanders weren’t her problem. There’d be at least another hour before she absolutely had to sleep – it was worth making it count.

_The risk of possession is one that mages must be vigilant for. Even purportedly benign spirits, as detailed in previous chapters, must be treated with caution…_

* * *

“The weather is lovely,” Josephine said to her the next morning. “Some like to take their noonday break outside of the castle’s walls on days like these. There are some particularly pretty groves just outside – I can give you directions, if you wish.”

A gentle, but transparent way to get Tala to go outside while the diplomat was wrapped in negotiations over lunch; Josephine was probably getting concerned that Tala was practically rooted to her desk during work hours.

“Sure. Is there any one place that you think would be the best to go to?”

When midday came, Tala went to her room to pick up last night’s book and a sheet to sit on; she was already bent on reading as much as she could over her sandwich. Even though there wasn’t a hint of anything that could explain…well, _anything_ about her problem, everything that’d she’d read so far was kind of amazing.

As Tala checked the neat directions that Josephine had written her, she remembered her shadow, still dutifully following.

“Hey, Arlene. I know you weren’t in the room when Josephine and I were talking about this, but I’m eating outside of Skyhold today. Are you okay with that?” Technically, Tala was sure that Arlene _had_ to agree with her, but it felt like a dick move to not ask.

“Of course, miss.”

Whether out of professionalism or apprehension, since their introduction, none of her bodyguards really said much else. It must’ve been the sunlight that put Tala in a good enough mood to try and continue the conversation. “You don’t have to call me miss. It’s kind of formal.”

Arlene looked a little startled at being addressed as such. “Oh! Um, okay.”

_She sounds even younger when she’s nervous,_ Tala mused. Out loud, she asked, “How old are you?”

“Eighteen, m—Tala.”

Just as she’d first thought. Still, the confirmation of it was a little bit of a shock. Even with an war going on, the idea of an eighteen-year-old being an active soldier would always be troubling, no matter which world it was.

“That’s…really young.”

Arlene bristled a little at that – Tala couldn’t help but remember herself at that age, a mere handful of years ago, taking offense at every remark that doubted her maturity.

Sticking her chin a little higher in the air, she said, “I’m not the youngest in the barracks.”

“I didn’t mean it as a bad thing.” Now that they were talking, both of them had to walk side-by-side; the change was refreshing, in a straightforward, normal way. “I was just surprised, that’s all. It must’ve taken a while to train, so you would’ve been even younger when you joined, right?”

“Yes,” was the girl’s reply, all defensiveness wiped off of her features, replaced by pride. “I had some training back home, but Knight-Captain Rylen says that I’ve made really good progress over the past few months.”

A noticeable blush crept over Arlene’s face as she mentioned the Knight-Captain, but Tala sympathized enough to pretend not to notice. There were enough schoolgirl crushes on various teachers for her to understand the sentiment.

“That’s pretty impressive. I’ve seen the training, it all looks pretty difficult.” All the innumerable drills looked downright unpleasant, with the captains – and occasionally Cullen – barking out corrections every now and again.

Cullen, who had seemed almost fragile the night before, though he didn’t show a single trace of it when she’d passed him that morning…

“—old are you? That is, if you don’t mind me asking.” Fortunately for Tala, Arlene was still talking, rousing her out of any speculation; again, she had to remind herself that whatever was plaguing the commander was his business alone.

“I’m twenty-three. So, not that much older than you, actually.”

_Thank goodness their calendar is pretty much the same. Or else it would be even more of a headache._

By now, they were just about where Josephine had told her was the optimal spot for a picnic. Taking in the trees, the gentle breeze, and the smell of grass, Tala almost forgot all her worries for a moment.

“Ah, this is _so_ worth it.”

Grabbing the corners of the worn sheet, Tala flung it out as evenly as she could; Arlene, eager to please, found rocks to weigh down the corners of the whole thing.

Coaxing Arlene to sit down with her, Tala looked at her lunch. “Dammit, I should’ve brought something for you too…I think I’ll end up wanting to stay a while. Now that I think about it, a sandwich isn’t—FUCK!”

The world _shook_. 

Tala’s first coherent thought was that lightning had struck, but it _wasn’t_ lightning, it was too wrong – lightning wasn’t supposed to make a sound of _ripping_ so potent that it reverberated through their bodies. Nor did it seem to bend reality as the air around them shuddered. And lightning certainly didn’t flash a cold, pulsing green before disappearing.

For a split second, the two of them stared at each other, frozen, Tala with her hands over her ears and Arlene with her sword in her hand. And then another split second before the soldier catapulted herself up, barging towards whatever the _hell_ that thing was.

“Stay behind me!” she shouted over her shoulder.

“Wait!” All common sense suggested it was better to get _away_ from the disturbance, but Tala found herself sprinting after the girl.

By the time she caught up with her bodyguard, Arlene was standing, sword drawn, over a prone figure, eyeing it with suspicion. “She’s knocked out. By all rights, there should’ve been—it’s almost like…well…”

Arlene’s confusion was plain in her voice, though she didn’t lift her gaze from the stranger.

_It’s almost like me. Green light, person falling…so_ that’s _a rift._

Whatever had happened to _her_ was probably happening again. Theories spinning in her mind, Tala took a closer look at the girl; bedraggled, with mussed black hair, clad in a long-sleeved shirt and dirty jeans.

Jeans.

Tala’s breath caught in her throat.

_Holy shit. She’s from Earth too._

Eyes snapping up towards Arlene, she saw the girl watching her with wide eyes. “Do you know her, miss?”

“No,” was Tala’s slow reply, still trying to comprehend this new development. “But…I think…”

At that moment, the figure stirred, shifting her head slightly. Arlene immediately tensed again, raising her sword and holding an arm out in front of Tala. “She may be dangerous.”

Tala wondered if it was cowardly, hiding behind a teenager five years her junior, but said teenager was the one with a weapon, so she made no protest.

Instead, she offered another suggestion; they could hardly wait here until the person came to, and remembering the circumstances of her own arrival, they probably wouldn't be cognizant for a little while. 

“I don’t think she’s going to wake up. Maybe it’d be best if we took her back to Skyhold. That way Josephine will be able to tell us what to do next.” The new girl was a complete stranger to her, Tala wanted to at least try to make sure that she would wake up to anyone _but_ Leliana. It was just the decent thing to do.

“Alright,” Arlene said, doubtful. Still, she sheathed the sword and pulled out some leather strips. “I’ll bind her wrists, first. As a precaution.”

Wincing at the way Arlene expertly tied the knots, Tala couldn’t help but say, “Is that really necessary?”

Brow furrowing, the soldier said, “We were always told in training to be vigilant. It would be best to not take any risks.”

Although still a little uncomfortable, Tala couldn’t help but agree. It made sense - just because this person was probably from Earth, it didn't mean that they'd be friendly. Still, her heart felt guilty. “I guess. Let’s move quickly; do you know a back way so that as few people as possible will see us?”

* * *

As it turned out, Arlene _did_ know a less crowded route, but it was impossible to stay completely hidden; the attention that the rift drew was too great, and there was a palpable panic in the air as people dashed to and fro. In the short time it took to make it to Josephine’s office, Tala was sure that the whisper network had informed all of Skyhold that something was afoot.

_So much for keeping it on the lowdown._

Once they had set their – prisoner? – down on a chair, Tala told Arlene to get the ambassador; however, the instruction was rendered unnecessary a moment later.

With her almost uncanny perfect timing, the Lady Josephine rushed into the office just as Arlene turned towards the door. “Tala, the meeting ended early, people are—oh, my.”

“Josephine! I’m so sorry, but, uh, something happened.”

_Idiot! That’s probably why the meeting ended early!_

“The Inquisitor will need to be informed about this,” Josephine murmured, quick to comprehend and even quicker to take charge. “Arlene, the Inquisitor was meant to be leaving, but I am sure she’ll be in the main courtyard now. Please find her, as quick as you can.”

Saluting, Arlene all but ran out of the room, leaving the two of them with the still-bound girl.

“Everyone saw the rift.” Despite the surprise, Josephine’s voice was remarkably even, though Tala thought she could hear a slight sigh behind the words. “It will be more difficult to control word of this, now that it has happened a second time.”

Uncertainty struck Tala. “Should we have just left her outside?”

“No, no,” Josephine said quickly. “It is better that you brought her here, within these walls. And perhaps this will yield more answers.”

Reassured, Tala turned her focus again on the girl. Now that her face was no longer hidden behind a curtain of hair, it was clear that she was South Asian; other than that, there was nothing familiar about her.

Who was she? Were they connected somehow?

Before long, Eleanor strode in, followed by Dorian, the woman whom Tala was told once was Cassandra Pentaghast, and _Cole_.

_What’s_ he _doing here?_ Tala eyed the skinny boy, feeling a little prickle of unease. _Okay, it’s probably best to take one thing at a time._

Pushing the not-mage to the backburner of her mind, Tala instead looked to the Inquisitor.

“Josie, Tala,” Eleanor greeted them, her eyes fixing on the stranger. “We were ready to leave for—well, it doesn’t matter. This is more urgent. We’ve had to calm down damn near the whole _fortress._ ”

As if to underline the _urgency_ of the situation, the door opened yet again; this time, Cullen and Leliana entered, with a slightly-awed looking Arlene behind them.

Tala hid her grimace as she caught sight of the spymaster. _Well, it’s not like I could’ve done anything else about that._

The room was starting to feel a little crowded, and the girl _still_ wasn’t awake.

“Surely there must be a way to rouse her,” said the severe-looking Cassandra.

“I think your usual methods wouldn’t quite work, my lady Seeker,” Dorian said in that droll voice of his. Of all of them, he seemed the most at ease, though he kept a firm grip on his wicked-looking staff. “You can’t punch someone awake.”

Cassandra didn’t deign to reply, only making a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. 

Luckily for the gathered audience, and perhaps for Dorian, the girl _finally_ began coming to consciousness.

“Wh-where am I?” Her accent was familiar – English? But not the faux Englishness of some of the residents of Skyhold. “Who are you?”

Tala winced as the girl struggled with her tied hands. She wanted to ask if they could untie the leather straps, but it was clear that everyone was waiting for Eleanor to speak first.

“You’re in Skyhold,” Eleanor said, with just the right amount of gentleness. Tala was starting to feel a little déjà vu. “The Frostback Mountains. We’re with the Inquisition – are you familiar with us?” 

Blinking, the girl abandoned her struggle and straightened, eyes flickering between all of them. Tala saw how her eyes widened as she took in the sight before her; her confusion, too, was apparent in the way she mouthed the words ‘Frostback Mountains’.

“The In—but that’s…”

“What’s your name?”

“Anchal. I don’t—”

“Anchal. I’m Eleanor. You were found just outside of Skyhold. Do you know how you got there?”

Frowning, Anchal replied, “I don’t—I was on the train, and there was this green light, and now I’m here. But this…this isn’t real.”

Tala’s déjà vu got even stronger at that; watching the girl’s mounting panic, she decided that it was probably best to break the news now, before whatever interrogation was coming.

“Inquisitor,” she said, surprised at the assuredness of her own voice. “Maybe it’d be better if I talked to her alone. Just for five minutes.”

To her surprise, Eleanor agreed. “Alright. If you need anything, we’ll be outside.”

“Wait, can we untie her first?” Though there were some suspicious looks cast in Tala’s way, mainly from the ‘lady Seeker’, her request was granted.

Once it was just the two of them – Anchal electing to remain seated, rubbing her wrists – Tala decided that roundabout was probably the best approach. If she straight up said what was going on, she wasn’t sure that Anchal would believe her.

“Your name, it’s Hindi, right?” Non-threatening, but with just enough meaning for the girl to catch her drift.

Freezing, Anchal looked at her, the wariness in her eyes replaced with bewilderment. “Yeah. How did you know that? I mean, I didn’t think people here would know anything about—”

“I had a friend called Anchal, when I was in high school.” They only had five minutes. Tala needed Anchal to come to the conclusion on her own, and fast. “Always used to get annoyed when people asked her to speak Indian.”

Understanding dawned in her eyes, and she leaned forward. “You’re not from here either.”

_Well, at least she’s credulous._

“Exactly. Look, I don’t know how, but I woke up here almost three weeks ago now. It was the same as you – a bright green light, and then I woke up here, everyone asking me questions and telling me that it was probably magic that brought me here. And then you showed up.”

Anchal was twisting her hair now, agitated; however, she didn’t accuse Tala of being insane, so that was a good sign.

_Just give her a moment,_ Tala told herself. _Don’t push it._

After a ten-second pause, Anchal started talking in a half-whisper, words tumbling out a mile a minute. “This is so fucking weird. I didn’t want to believe it, but then I saw Josephine and Cullen and _Leliana,_ even though something was off—”

_Hold up._

“Wait, how did you know their—”

“—I mean, the whole _thing_ is off, but there’s something about the way they look and sound that’s a little bit different—”

“I _said_ wait _._ ” The girl stopped, mid-ramble, looking at Tala with almost chastened eyes. Mindful of the certain eavesdroppers at the door, Tala matched Anchal’s volume. “How do you _know_ all that?”

Mouth dropping open, Anchal got up, leaning in closer, dropping her voice to an even lower whisper. “Hang on. You don’t know where we are? You’ve never heard of Dragon Age?”

Shaking her head, Tala waited for her to continue. What did Anchal know that she didn’t?

“I’ve seen this before. Thedas, the Inquisition, everything _._ It’s all a game. We’re _in a video game._ ”


	10. Going

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "But not the army. I don't know if I could cope."
> 
> Anchal brings some illumination, but a pretty big complication. Somehow, Tala isn't surprised.

As if things couldn’t get any fucking weirder.

“I’m sorry, _what_? What the fuck?”

Tala’s first instinct was to say that the girl in front of her was joking. But both of them had fallen out of the sky from a green light – after all that had happened, was there a reason not to believe her?

But a _video game_?

Maybe it was a prank…but Anchal’s eyes were wide, sincere; she seemed to be a second away from clasping her hands and pleading to be believed.

“I’m telling the truth, I swear. I can prove—”

The two of them only had five minutes, so Tala decided to tamp down her own curiosity for now. There’d be an opportunity to get all the information later, when they were alone.

“Look,” Tala said quickly. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you. But even if you could prove it, what are you going to do with the information? Are you going to tell them? About…you know?”

At the last question, Anchal scrunched her face. “I don’t know! I woke up like five minutes ago. I never thought I’d actually have to make this kind of choice.”

Feeling fully underqualified to be giving advice in this situation, Tala considered their options. Just imagining how Anchal telling the Inquisition would play out made her wince; explaining video games would be a headache in and of itself. Not to mention the other implications of the whole thing – any way you sliced it, the conversation would be a minefield, and the consequences were pretty hefty.

“I think…it’s best if you – both of us – don’t say anything for now. Until we know that it’s the best thing to do.”

The other girl gave an enthusiastic nod, apparently relieved that she didn’t have to do the deciding on her own. “I guess it makes sense.”

So they were in agreement, something that had come with surprising ease. Still, as Tala opened the door and the expectant audience filed outside, uncertainty settled heavy in her stomach.

_Okay, but what if we’re wrong?_

The Inquisition had important people, with the power to _do_ things that affected the whole of Thedas; even her tiny peek into their operations had convinced her of that. Surely if Anchal was able to help with what she knew…

No. If the two of them started meddling without understanding how the information would ripple out, things might start to go wrong.

So for now, it was best to stand there, looking equal parts supportive and concerned as Anchal told her story. Luckily, the other girl was careful to ask the appropriate questions, not letting anything slip in order to stay beneath suspicion.

Once the explanations and assurances of help were given, Tala stepped in once again to offer Anchal use of her room.

“So you can clean up,” Tala said, already impatient to find out as much as she could. No one, not even the Lady Cassandra, offered any objections, so they were allowed to go on their merry way, no doubt leaving the Inquisition’s leaders to discuss what the hell was going on with the rifts.

_Well, at least this went a lot more smoothly the second time around._

* * *

After showing Anchal into her little sanctuary, Tala gave her a little time to get adjusted; Josephine, thoughtful as always, had provided some clothes and other toiletries.

But as soon as her guest got comfortable on the foot of the bed, she couldn’t wait any longer.

“So, how do you know that this is a vide game?” Anchal said she had proof, and as much as the idea seemed credible, Tala wasn’t going to accept it without something tangible.

“Okay,” Anchal said, taking a deep breath. Evidently, there was a lot of ground to cover. “I said before, yeah, how this is a video game that I’ve seen before? I’ve played through it a couple of times. I’ll _try_ to be accurate, but there’s a lot, and I was always kinda more into Mass Effect—”

“Anything you remember is fine,” Tala said, trying to hurry her to the point.

“Right, so anyway, the whole thing starts at the Conclave. Actually, no, it kinda starts before that, at Kirkwall—”

Tala hung on to every word, asking questions, taking note of the whole setup, the brief history of Thedas, the staggering amount of people involved, the important events that led to the Inquisition.

Once Anchal had gone over the whole plot – but only _very briefly_ , she stressed, mentioning DLCs and extra material – Tala sat down next to her, going over everything in her mind.

“Okay…I guess that makes sense.” A month ago, it definitely wouldn’t have made sense, but she was wiser now. As ridiculous as it sounded, at least things were becoming a little more certain; however, the escalation of the events in the game didn’t go unnoticed.

 _That’s a strong_ if, _though,_ Tala thought. She already knew that Thedas was dangerous before this, and now she _knew_ that it carried end-of-the-world consequences. That was par for the course in fantasy, a genre she’d always liked, but that didn’t mean that she _wanted_ to be part of it. Fiction was supposed to be escapism, dammit.

“So what happens next? We’re at Skyhold, so you know that that much. But nothing that big has happened since I got here, so it probably hasn’t progressed the main storyline that much.”

“Yeah. Well, here’s the thing, cause Dragon Age’s an RPG. There are so many different options and decisions that you make when you play, there’s not like a set timeline for everything. My Inquisitor was _totally_ different from Eleanor, so there’s no guarantee that things will turn out the same. At least she’s not evil, right? We’d be fucked if she was evil.”

Refusing to be deterred, Tala said, “Well…no. Anyway, you still know a lot more than I do, so that’s _something._ If you remember the basic plot points, you might be able to figure out when things are going to happen.” 

“Guess that’s all I can do,” Anchal replied. “I’ll let you know when I see something.”

Silence settled over them, and Tala began to fidget.

_Now what?_

Just as the thought formed in her mind, Anchal beat her to it.

“But what do I do now? I’ve read fics like this, like the whole ‘modern girl’ thing, but I don’t exactly, you know,” she said, making a vague gesture that looked like swordfighting. “And I kind of hope I have magic, but I don’t exactly feel different. Do you think they’d make me do something or will I have no—”

On she went, vibrating with the possibilities of being at Skyhold and meeting the characters that she’d only watched on the screen. Tala watched her new acquaintance with an amazement that began to curdle into that ugly, familiar sense of inadequacy. Nothing in Anchal’s behavior indicated Tala’s fear or despair at the situation they had both literally been dropped into; how had this girl taken everything into stride so quickly?

But it wouldn’t do to start resenting the only other person that shared her plight. It wasn’t Anchal’s fault that she was so frequently at the edge of a breakdown. So, Tala repressed the shit out of the unwarranted feelings and listened, intent on getting to learn more about Anchal – and of course, continue absorbing as much information about Thedas as possible.

“Can we walk around? You don’t have to do anything, do you?”

Tala went to check the time before remembering she had nothing to check the time with.

“I’ll have to check if Josephine needs me, but sure.”

Anchal gave a little gasp, looking strangely impressed. “Josephine? You work with her?”

“More like _for_ her, but yeah. I do all the grunt stuff, it’s not really that interesting.” Well, some of it was, but probably not in the way that Anchal thought things were interesting.

“They let you work with them? You reckon they’d let me do the same? I haven’t even finished my A-levels yet, but it’s not like they need any qualifications, do they?” A glint entered Anchal’s eyes. “I wonder if Leliana has any job openings.”

“Leliana?” So, Anchal wanted to be a spy. _That_ would be an entertaining conversation, but Tala couldn’t really see it actually leading to anything. “You could ask her, if you want to. That’s how I did it.”

“Maybe I will.”

Blessedly, Josephine gave her consent for Tala to take the afternoon off, all grace and pleasantries, adding that Anchal was free to come to her for anything. 

“The Inquisitor could not postpone her departure any longer, but she will be back in three days at the most. Then we may have a discussion about your plans for the future.”

The ‘you’ in Josephine’s statement was delivered in a way that was unnecessarily ambiguous; Tala had a feeling that it involved both of them, as interlopers that were baffling for all the same reasons.

_Yikes._

Three days was both way too long and way too short a time to wait for that kind of discussion, but there was no time to worry about _that_ ; the diplomat was already shooing them away to start their tour.

“Do you mind if we start at the Herald’s Rest?”

Tala didn’t mind at all, so off they went to wander the castle. Unfortunately for her companion, the Herald’s Rest was relatively quiet, devoid of the people that Anchal was eager to glimpse; according to the increasingly suspicious Cabot, the Chargers were on official business and unlikely to return for the week.

“If you _do_ see them around, tell them they still owe me for damages!”

Neither of them had the intention of doing _that,_ so they made their escape. And so it went, the two of them trying not to draw attention to themselves while Anchal almost literally sparkled with excitement at her surroundings. She would point to some spot or some room, telling Tala in hushed whispers about how ‘you can usually find Leliana there’, or ‘this isn’t accessible in the game, not from what I remember, how cool is that?!’.

Despite her initial reaction, Tala found herself charmed; something about the raw joy in the girl – and being seventeen _was_ still a girl, in her eyes – was endearing. And a little disconcerting.

An hour later, as they were back in the safety of her room, Tala said, “So, what did you think?”

“Holy shit, it’s so surreal, man, I still can’t believe it,” Anchal said, flopping back onto the bed. “It’s like I know everything about it because I _saw_ it, but now it’s real, and I can actually touch the stones and _smell_ everything and everyone’s so…so _real_.”

“Is it how you expected it to be?”

Anchal sat up a little, cocking her head to the side. “Well, it’s pretty much the same, but there is some stuff that’s changed. But it’s only the small stuff, and I haven’t played it in a while, so it’s kind of hard to tell.”

That _was_ a little strange, but Tala supposed that it was natural that seeing the castle in flesh and blood would make everything look somewhat off.

Leaning against the wall, Tala spoke again, with the million-dollar question. “It’s a long shot, but did it give you any idea of where we are in the main quest?”

“Not really. I thought maybe seeing how much Skyhold’s been rebuilt would give me a clue, but it’s kind of difficult to tell. But if I _had_ to say, I think it’s pretty early on. There’s definitely a lot more to go,” was the reply as Anchal flopped back down.

In other words, there was at least a little while to prepare for events that were too uncomfortably close to apocalyptic.

“Maybe something’ll happen soon? Or at least something that you’d be able to recognize?”

From what Anchal had said, it looked like the whole game spanned at least a year; that meant _months_ of living in this castle. For all the mortal danger that everyone kept talking about, so much of life here seemed to move at a glacial pace.

“Yeah, maybe.” 

All that was left to do was wait. Again.

* * *

“What am I supposed to do?!”

It was the next morning, and Anchal had come into the office, leaning against Tala’s desk in order to vent her frustrations.

Alas, it had turned out that Leliana didn’t have any job vacancies, or she just plain didn’t trust the two of them. Regardless of the reason, it was a swift and decisive ‘no’ from the spymaster. With no interest in paperwork and a typical London student’s lack of knowledge in woodworking or smithing or fletching or basically anything that Skyhold’s workers needed, the options available to Anchal were almost nonexistent.

It took Tala a moment to gather her thoughts and answer – it had turned out that missing an afternoon’s worth of work meant that she had to work at triple speed to catch up, and her hand was beginning to ache with the ungodly speed with which she’d had to write.

“Maybe you could join the army.” She was less than half-serious, but the suggestion made the girl blanch.

“You really think they’re gonna make me do that?”

“To be honest, I don’t think they’re going to _make_ you do anything. You’re pretty much their guest, just like me.”

“Yeah, but _you’re_ working.” To punctuate her point, Anchal pointed to the itinerary that she’d watched Tala copy twice, because the stupid ink kept smudging. “If I’m not doing anything important to the Inquisition, I might as well do _something_ to pass the time, I can’t be just wandering around like, you know. And I’d feel bad if I have to keep borrowing money from you.”

Tala had been moved by sympathy – and the politeness drummed into her from a young age – to give Anchal a portion of the advance that Josephine had insisted on paying.

“I don’t mind giving you money. Not like I’m planning on saving up, anyway.”

“It’ll just be better.” A sigh escaped the girl. “But not the army. I don’t know if I could cope.”

_Well, she does have a point._

The quick, light footsteps on the other side of the door signaled the arrival of the lady ambassador.

“I’ll see you around, then,” Anchal said, making her exit.

“See you.”

“What a nice girl,” Josephine remarked, with a touch of fondness as Anchal gave a cheerful greeting slash farewell. “Very energetic.”

“She is, isn’t she?”

But Tala’s thoughts were only half on the conversation. Every once in a while, she found herself looking over at Josephine, wondering what was going to happen to her. Anchal hadn’t mentioned anything about any of the advisors’ deaths, but still…it was disconcerting to know how things were going to play out. They were ostensibly in a video game, but like Anchal had said, it all still felt so _real_.

 _Okay, Tala, the philosophical shit is not good right now…it’s a headache waiting to happen_. _There’s no point worrying until it becomes a problem._

With that stern reminder, she threw herself into the concerns of the present.

* * *

Of course, it wasn’t long before it became a problem.

Josephine had said that it would probably take three days for the Inquisitor to come back, but she arrived at Skyhold in two. There wasn’t any announcement that notified Tala of this event – she could tell from the sense of relief and stability that rippled through the castle, something that always happened when Eleanor’s return was spotted.

“Tala!”

Pausing her conversation with Arlene to turn towards the source of the shriek—along with half the other people on the battlements—Tala locked eyes with a fast-approaching Anchal. Something in the girl’s expression told her that it was _happening._

But they were still in the open, with witnesses, and Anchal seemed to realize it as soon as she came within arm’s length. Coughing, Anchal twisted the rag in her hand.

“I, uh, left something in…your room. Do you mind if I go get it?” The excuse was a little slow to come out, and anyone that had even the slightest reason to be suspicious would’ve pounced on the lie. Luckily, no one was paying attention anymore, and Arlene wasn’t the type to ask too many questions.

“Sure, I was gonna go that way anyway.”

_Maybe it’s good that neither of us are spies._

Forcing herself to walk at a somewhat leisurely pace, Tala’s gaze fell on the absolutely filthy piece of cloth in Anchal’s grip.

“What’s _that_?”

“This?” Looking down at her hand, Anchal made a face. “I bugged Cabot into giving me a part-time job at the tavern. Took me like, two hours of begging.”

“Right.”

“It’s not too bad, I’ve done waitressing stuff before, so it’s something, right?”

But Anchal clearly hadn’t sprinted all that way to talk about her new employment. The anticipation of it all made every second that ticked by felt like a year, and Tala was impatient to get to her room and find out what was going on.

“I moved some things around, so I don’t know where it could be.”

_There._

The lie, as most lies, came smoothly enough, and would probably serve as an explanation if it they took a little longer than was strictly necessary. It was still a little feeble though, and Tala wondered, as she so often did, if Leliana was somehow privy to their conversation.

Once they were inside, Anchal went straight to the window, eyes scanning for something.

“Hang on, let me…there! Do you see that guy, over there, next to Eleanor, in the blue and silver armor? That’s Warden Stroud. I wonder if that means that Alistair is king… I couldn’t handle it if he was dead in this canon.”

Though her words were muted, the tremor in it was palpable.

Positioning herself next to Anchal, Tala followed the direction of her finger – Warden Stroud cut an imposing figure, all business and muscle and official looking symbols.

“What does he do?” Stroud was _definitely_ important, that much was obvious, but the most pressing part was _how._

Throwing a glance over her shoulder to double check that the door was closed, Anchal dropped her voice even lower. “He shows up at the beginning of a main quest. I can’t remember the name right now, but I told you about it, remember? The one where they end up going into the Fade. That means Hawke’s here as well…”

Tala _did_ remember, but Anchal had had to gloss over a lot of the details in the first pass; it was something to do with a group of ‘wardens’ that got the crap end of a deal and a demon army, and then a siege…and then the whole part about the Fade.

_Well, shit._

So they’d managed to land in the part of the game when things were starting to _really_ ramp up.

As she tried to process the sheer scale of the upcoming destruction in her mind, Tala noticed that the younger girl’s face was beginning to pale as well, as they stared at each other.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t tell them what’s going on? You said that we should wait until we know it’s good to tell them. Isn’t now a good time? Maybe we can help.”

 _Maybe_ you _can help. And why are you asking me?_ Tala wanted to say, before remembering that she’d been the first one to suggest staying quiet. _Right, well…oh, for fuck’s sake._

Chewing her lip, Tala began to second guess the reasons that’d previously seemed sound and rational. There was supposed to be a battle, and people were going to…die, but maybe if Anchal could—

“I don’t…look. Do you remember the details of the whole event? Is there anything you could tell them that’ll help? Because once they find out, that’s it. There’s a chance they won’t even trust us anymore, you know. Or that you tell them something and then it changes the whole outcome or it stays the same and blows up in our faces or something even worse.”

Her words seemed to make Anchal more agitated – she was pulling the almost forgotten rag in her hands to threads.

“They’ll find out about the wardens anyway, but maybe if I get the details right we can help with the siege. And…and if we say something, there might be a chance that we save both of them!”

“Both of who?”

Anchal’s eyes flickered down again to the spot outside that had long since been vacated by Warden Stroud.

“Didn’t I tell you? At the end of the quest, you have to make a choice.”

As Tala listened to Anchal’s whispered explanation, she was half-tempted to pull her own hair out.

_That’s…fucking sadistic._

It was probably a sadistic choice in the game, but now, here in flesh and blood, it was a hundred times worse.

“…so that’s why I think we should tell them. At the very least, they’ll know, you know? And they’ll be prepared.”

Tala’s head began to throb. So much for putting off difficult decisions. But there were actual lives on the line here. This was no time to become a wreck.

“It’s up to you. You’re the one that actually knows what’s going on.” Even saying the words made Tala feel a little guilty; seeing the increased distress on Anchal’s face made it worse. After all, it was nothing more than an attempt to shove off the responsibility onto a high school student.

“But what do _you_ think?”

Evidently, Anchal wasn’t about to let her dodge the question – not that she wasn’t wrong for doing so, but still.

People were going to die.

What’s worse, people were going to die whether or not they came clean about what Anchal knew. But maybe knowing what was going to happen would help minimize the losses somehow. Hadn’t she just spent weeks watching a growing movement, filled with people that were exhausted and hopeful and terrified and brave? Wasn’t it a cowardly thing to leave this kind of decision to a high school student that was obviously asking to not be left alone in this?

Taking in a measured breath, Tala cast her lot.

“Let’s go find the Inquisitor.”

* * *

They found her on a battlement, as far away from the bustle of activity as possible, looking out into the mountains with a drawn expression. That was to be expected, really; if Anchal was right – and the girl was positive that she was – then Eleanor was in the middle of uncovering an extraordinarily shitty crisis. Despite this, however, the Inquisitor was able to give them a small smile.

“Tala, Anchal. How are you two doing? Cabot’s just told me that you’re settling in nicely.”

For some reason this show of genuine interest in their affairs inspired in Tala a sense of admiration, followed by a fresh wave of guilt.

_Her world keeps going to hell and she’s still able to give us a smile and ask us how we’re doing. I wish…no wonder everyone admires her._

“I’m good, it’s good. We need to talk to you,” Anchal said, a little breathlessly. Judging by the way she went back to wringing her hands, she wasn’t sure how to begin. Still, Eleanor was patient.

“Yes?”

At Anchal’s imploring gaze, Tala took her cue to jump in the conversation.

“Can we talk in private? It’s important.”

Eleanor’s posture stiffened, seemingly already on the alert for bad news.

“Of course.”

She beckoned for them to follow, and the three of them made straight for the Inquisitor’s quarters.

“Inquisitor!”

 _Are you_ fucking _kidding me._

Ser _fucking_ Hagen was approaching them – weren’t the Fereldan dignitaries supposed to have left the night before? What was he doing still at Skyhold?

“Ser Hagen. Is something the matter?” Eleanor said, with the utmost politeness, though thankfully she slowed her pace rather than stopping altogether. Anchal shot a glance at the interloper, then back at Tala’s grimace.

 _Who is he?_ Anchal mouthed at her. _He’s fit._

Scrunching up her face in response, Tala shook her head. _I'll tell you later._

“I’m loathe to trouble you,” the bastard said, having caught up with them. “But our journey has been delayed indefinitely. Several of our party have found that several of their possessions have gone missing.”

“What?” This time, Eleanor _did_ stop. “What kind of things?”

“ _Valuable_ things, Inquisitor. Of course, as you know, travel has a way of disappearing items, even with the utmost care, but in this case…the circumstances are very strange. Especially with _recent_ circumstances. It’s difficult to keep track of the movements of every single person, even within your own castle.”

Tala caught the way his eyes flickered towards _her,_ as if to insinuate something, and fought down the urge to slap his face. Trust the asshole to get in a sly dig at her integrity, even with nothing to back him up.

“As I said, we are loathe to trouble you, but the injured parties are at their wits’ end. The Lady Imogen in particular has been wanting your presence since the night before. On my honor, it won’t be long.”

The Inquisitor let out a subdued groan, looking between the knight and the two girls.

“I’m sorry, but I’ll have to deal with this. Go to Josephine, and wait there. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“But—” Anchal cried out, before Tala shot her a quelling look. They needed time to get through to Eleanor about what was happening, and if she remembered Josephine’s sighs correctly, Lady Imogen was the equivalent of a middle-aged soccer mom, and wasn’t one to back down when she wanted something. If the Inquisitor didn’t go, they’d just get interrupted by the hysterics of a noblewoman with too much time and ego.

“Alright,” Tala said. “We’ll see you there.”

Tugging on Anchal’s hand, Tala led them back towards Josephine’s office.

“What’d you do that for?” Anchal hissed, still looking over her shoulder towards the retreating figures of Eleanor and Ser Hagen. “You know it’s urgent.”

“Do you know how bad it would look if Eleanor ignored that? And how much worse it’ll be if Lady Imogen busts in halfway through us telling her what’s gonna happen? She said she’ll be back as soon as she can, so we’ll just have to wait. Fifteen minutes won’t kill us.”

Silence. Tala couldn’t read what the silence meant, though. Petulance? Agreement? Whatever it was, the silence didn’t last for long.

Because, of course, disaster struck.

They were within sight of Josephine’s door when Tala saw _someone_ materialize behind Anchal, out of thin air; the rush of adrenaline at his presence jolted time and space into a blur.

“Watch out!” Tala didn’t have time to think, didn’t even see the small glass vial in his hand; all she saw was a sinister mask and the way he loomed behind the girl, and the threat that he posed. Lunging forwards, she knocked Anchal aside.

He swore, hand clamping around Tala’s neck.

_Oh my god._

For some reason, even though she knew that this was likely life or death, Tala froze.

“You—”

It was now impossible to have a coherent thought, not with the jagged edges of fear pulsing through her body as that grip tightened around her throat, seconds away from crushing her windpipe even as she finally began to fight back. All she could see was the terrifying emptiness of his mask.

“Halt!”

The shouts came from somewhere she couldn’t pinpoint. Probably soldiers. Maybe Anchal had gotten away. Maybe they were coming to rescue her, but maybe it was too late. Her vision was spotting now, the world fading around her.

There was a shattering of glass, and her strength gave out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took a while! Real life has been crazy, as it has been for pretty much everyone around the world. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, let me know in the comments what you think!


End file.
